


Sunshine, Lollipops

by carbon_coconut



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dress-up, Emotions, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Halloween, Lunch Dates, M/M, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carbon_coconut/pseuds/carbon_coconut
Summary: Wherein Connor is too pure for this world and Hank can’t even.





	1. I Like Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first published piece of fanfic for the D:BH fandom. I wrote this to try and get a feel for the characters without committing too much to a storyline.  
> *looks at the 40k+ I've already written for a big D:BH fic but haven't finished/completely worked out the plot yet*  
> ... I may be doing this a little backwards.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Where the hell is Connor?” is the first thing Hank asks when he returns from the break room. Connor’s side of the desk is empty, but his jacket still hangs neatly on the back of the chair. There’s a half empty cup of Thirium Aide next to his monitor, which is still switched on: all sure signs that Connor is still somewhere in the building.

Chris glances over from his own workstation, looking sheepish. “I might have mentioned that the K-9 unit is visiting today,” he says.

Hank sighs, imagines that small shred of productivity they’d had today slipping away. “Jesus, that’ll be him out the rest of the day.” He sits down at his desk, loads up their most recent case-file, determined to at least try and file their report only to realize that the analysis of the evidence is still stored in Connor’s brain. “Motherfucker,” he whispers.

“They’re only here for today,” Chris adds. “You’ll have him back in no time.”

“That’s what you think, Miller. You don’t know what he’s like – freakin’ loves dogs, that one. First time I took him to the dog park with Sumo he almost shut down from excitement.”

“As cute as that is, I doubt he’ll be down there all day.”

 _Famous last words,_ Hank thinks.

*~*

Midday comes and goes, and there’s no sign of Connor. Hank tries not to let it bug him, but it gets later and later and his partner still hasn’t returned.

Hank’s kept himself busy in the meantime, checking over the new cases they’ve been assigned and making notes of who to question first or where to start looking for clues. He’s a competent Lieutenant: he worked fine on his own before Connor, but now that he has a partner that he actually likes and gets on with, he finds that he suddenly dislikes working by himself.

He ends up texting Connor just after one pm, and then tries not to worry when he doesn’t get a reply right away. It’s not like Connor can check his messages instantly and can send a reply without thinking about it.

Except that he absolutely can.

Two o’clock passes and Hank is ready to file a missing persons report.

 “Fucking hell,” Reed complains from his desk at the other end of the bullpen, where he’s no doubt watched Hank glance periodically over at his partner’s empty chair. “Why don’t you just get off your ass and go check on the toaster yourself?”

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?”

“I would but your constant pouting is making me sad,” he sneers. “Get the fuck out of here, Anderson.”

Hank shows Reed his middle finger, and the detective rolls his eyes and shoves his headphones back over his ears.

He checks his cell phone again but there are no new notifications.

Hank makes the independent decision to go and check on Connor himself.

He ignores Reed’s smirk on his way out.

*~*

Hank can hear the excited barking as soon as he exits the elevator.

 _Won’t be down there all day, my ass_ Hank thinks, heading towards the noise

The K-9 Unit always hangs out on the ground floor when they visit. The rooms down here are mainly used for training exercises: each room resembles a large empty school gymnasium, and the fire exit in to the parking lot provides access for moving equipment in and out: it also makes it easier to get the dogs in.

Hank’s ears take him to one of the bigger rooms and he pushes the doors open.

It’s pretty crowded inside. There’s a number of officers that Hank recognizes from other precincts here, their dogs sitting obediently by their sides as they talk with a few of the beat cops from the DPD. Hank waves in response when they greet him, and he moves further in to the room, looking for some sign of his partner.

It’s a bit difficult to see beyond the dogs running around. Hank’s distracted momentarily by the different breeds that he sees: the few DPD cops that actually have a K-9 companion all have German Shepherds, but here he can see Beagles, Collies, and even a few Akitas. One of them stops and sniffs curiously at his shoes before barking and running back to its friends.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” someone says behind him.

Hank turns, smile already on his face at the familiar voice. “Wish I could say the same for you,” he says. “Good to see you, Sophie. How long’s it been, two years?”

Sophie grins. “Three,” she replies. “Not that we’re counting.”

“Course not, that’d be crazy.”

Sophie Carter used to be a familiar face around the DPD before she transferred to East Michigan K-9: something about always loving dogs and wanting to help train and work with them in the field. She occasionally makes an appearance when the unit is called in to assist an investigation but it’s been a while since Hank’s seen her in the building.

“You trying to steal more of our cops?” Hank asks.

“Please, if you’re going to blame anyone for absconding, you can blame the dogs.”

Hank snorts. “I’ll give you that one. Speaking of,” he says, gaze sweeping across the hall once more, “I’m looking for my partner: came down a few hours ago and hasn’t left. Big brown eyes, curly hair, goofy face?”

“Oh.” Sophie blinks in surprise. “Connor’s _your_ partner?"

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Was not expecting that.”

Hank frowns. “And why’s that?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“You guys are kinda like polar opposites of each other. Wouldn’t have figured you work well together.”

“Well, we didn’t at first.” Hank looks across the room again. “Seriously though, where is he?”

Sophie grins then and nods over at the corner of the room. “He’s over in the puppy pen. I think he’s enjoying himself: he’s been in there for the last two hours.” Hank looks over and notices the small crowd that’s gathered in that area. “I’ll be counting the puppies before I leave to make sure he hasn’t relieved me of a few,” she teases.

“Good idea,” Hank says. “I’ll go see if I can pry him away. Catch you later, Sophie.”

Sophie mock-salutes and turns to smile at an approaching officer, answering their questions about what it’s like to work with a dog.

Hank isn’t sure what to expect when he approaches the pen but it still manages to surprise him anyway. The pen itself is made up of a plastic barrier, enclosing the corner from the chaos of the room. The officers standing around are all looking inside; a few of them have their phones out and are either taking pictures or recording what’s going on. Everyone is smiling or laughing.

When Hank approaches, he understands why.

Connor is sitting cross-legged at the back of the pen, shirt sleeves rolled up and focused expression on his face. He has ten puppies of various breeds standing obediently in a line in front of him (or as obediently as a puppy can – they’re stomping and wriggling but still staying in place). All of the puppies are watching Connor intently, the android’s hand raised with his palm facing outwards.

Hank chuckles to himself and joins the other officers leaning against the barrier.

Connor studies each of the puppies in turn. “Sit,” he says, curling his hand in to a fist.

And, to Hank’s amazement, they all sit.

Connor smiles then, small and happy. “Good,” he says. “Now, lie down.” The puppies do, some of them sneezing playfully and others whining as they listen. Connor appraises them again, and once he’s happy he continues. “Roll over.”

There’s a small amount of chaos as the puppies roll unsuccessfully around on the floor, and the officers all laugh. One puppy, an Akita, doesn’t even attempt the move and instead lunges at Connor, biting the end of his pants and tugging, growling playfully.

“This is what you’ve been doing all day?” Hank asks. The other officers chuckle and move away, leaving Hank and Connor alone. Connor looks up in surprise, LED blinking yellow. “You suddenly join the K-9 Unit or something?”

“Lieutenant.” Connor carefully disengages the Akita from his chinos and stands up. He walks to the edge of the pen, puppy in tow. “I’m sorry, I became ... distracted.”

“Shoulda known you’d disappear down here at the mention of dogs,” Hank says. He smiles to let Connor know that he’s not mad. “You having fun?”

Connor’s LED spins back to blue. He smiles, hands loosely clasped behind his back. “The K-9 Unit is remarkable,” Connor says. “Both humans and canines work fluidly together, almost as if they are one. The humans trust the dogs implicitly, and the dogs are faithful companions.”

“Uh-huh. And the puppies?”

Connor actually blushes at that. Just a small smattering of blue lighting up his cheeks. “I ... the puppies are unlocked potential. They are eager to learn and even happier to please.” A pause. “And their physical appearance is charming.”

Hank runs that through his Connor-To-Human translator. “So the puppies are cute?” he asks, grinning.

Connor actually huffs at that, and if he were human Hank is certain he’d be rolling his eyes roundabout now. “Yes, Lieutenant: the puppies are cute.”

It’s all too amusing and Hank makes a mental note to ask his colleagues for some of those videos they took.

A small growling directs their attention back in to the pen, where the Akita is once again tugging on Connor’s pants. “Looks like you’ve made a friend,” Hank says.

Connor bends down to discourage the puppy, scoops it up in to his arms to save his clothes. The puppy is pretty happy with the development, and its tail starts wagging. It licks at Connor’s chin. “This one, while intelligent, does not respond to commands with the same level of obedience as the others. She is easily distracted.”

“Yeah well, she’s just a baby.” Hank scratches the top of the puppy’s head and receives a few nips in return. “Hard to believe Sumo was ever that small. I’m sure I have pictures somewhere.”

Connor looks intrigued. “I would like to see that, if you can find them.”

“Sure thing.” He gives Connor a few more moments of cuddling the Akita before clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, we gotta head back upstairs: I need your eyes on a few new cases that came in earlier today.”

*~*

It’s a couple of weeks later, and Hank and Connor are lying about on the couch on a rare day off. Hank is flat on his back with Connor sprawled out on top of him. The TV plays quietly in the background though neither of them is paying it much attention, too focused on talking softly with each other and trading kisses back and forth.

Hank’s cell phone starts buzzing on the floor where he’d dropped it earlier.

“Ignore it,” Connor whispers against his lips, resuming his mission to thoroughly map the inside of Hank’s mouth. His hands are tangled up in Hank’s hair, and he pulls a little harder anytime Hank’s hands slip under Connor’s shirt.

“It could be work,” Hank mumbles back. He doesn’t comment on the fact that had they been in any other position Connor would be chastising Hank for not picking up sooner.

Connor huffs indignantly. “It’s our day off,” he protests.

“I’m gonna let you in on a secret: there’s no such thing as a day off when you work for the police.” Hank removes his hand from where it had snuck under the waistband of Connor’s pants, tries not to laugh at Connor’s whine of displeasure. He gropes about for his phone, not bothering to check the caller ID before answering. “Anderson speaking.”

_“Hiya Hank, its Sophie.”_

“Hey Sophie. What’s up?”

_“I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”_

Hank’s a little distracted by Connor’s smirk, the android’s body moving smoothly against his own as Connor starts leaving a trail of kisses down his neck. He pushes Hank’s t-shirt up to expose his chest and continues kissing his way down and down ...

_“Hank?”_

“Sorry, bad signal.” Connor snorts. Hank shoves at his shoulder. “What do you need help with?”

 _“It’s actually something for your partner,”_ Sophie says. Connor’s ministrations slow a little. _“One of the puppies we have isn’t taking to the training so we need to re-home her. Connor seemed to really get on well with her – do you know if he’d be interested in taking her?”_

Connor is suddenly sitting upright, resting back on Hank’s thighs.

“You wanna give Connor a dog?” Hank asks, just to make sure he heard that right.

_“Yeah, if he wants her. I’d rather she goes to someone who I already know will take care of her.”_

Hank looks up at Connor. The android is frozen in place as he listens to the conversation, but he also looks so goddamn hopefully at the prospect of getting a puppy. Hank quickly thinks about the size of his house and how friendly Sumo would be to a little sister, but the house is big enough to house another dog and there’s plenty of space in the yard. Plus Sumo is a big softie and will probably love the extra company, especially on the days where Hank and Connor have to work late.

“Yeah,” Hank tells Sophie, and Connor practically lights up with happiness. “Yeah, I’m pretty certain he’ll take her.”

_“Great! I’ll text you the details and you can pass them on to him. Or you can give him my number and we can work out when he can come get her.”_

“Sure thing, Sophie. I’m sure he’ll message you soon.”

Sophie thanks him and the call has barely ended when Connor is tackling him and hugging the ever-loving crap out of him.

“Thank you,” Connor gushes, peppering kisses over whatever part of Hank’s face he can reach. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Hank chuckles. “Puppies are hard work: she’s gonna run circles round you at first.”

“I promise I’ll take good care of her.” Connor lands a kiss on Hank’s lips. “You won’t regret this.”

Hank smiles, puts his hands on Connor’s hips. “I know I won’t.”

Connor smirks again, and Hank feels his against his mouth more than sees it. “Let me thank you properly.”

Hank blinks. “Huh?” Connor takes up his earlier task of kissing his way down Hank’s body, his hands slipping underneath Hank’s boxers. Hank’s breath hitches. “Oh shit. If – if you wanna.”

Connor laughs against his skin and Hank becomes blissfully distracted for the rest of the evening.


	2. Drive Wolves Mad, part 1/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's never too late to post a halloween fic, right? Right!
> 
> I did have this done for halloween, but I wanted to add so much more in so i'm gonna split it in two parts and post the rest once I’ve edited it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Hank usually avoids the Detroit Police Department’s Annual Halloween Party like the plague.

He went once, back when he was young and fresh: dressed as his favourite _Star Trek_ captain (and he could really pull off the Jim Kirk look in those days) he had caught everyone’s eye, had a line of people sidling up to him and wanting a turn in the Captain’s Chair.

The social anxiety had been running through him though, and he accidentally got completely wasted and embarrassed himself by puking in the candy bucket.

No one saw it, but he’d made a speedy exit afterwards anyway.

After that he opted out of the parties, offering to work the late shift just so he had a reasonable excuse to not go.

But Connor is here now, and he wants to experience _everything_.

“I promise you’ll have a good time,” Connor is saying while they leave work. It’s the week before the party, and Ben and Chris (the traitors) spent the entire day listing a bunch of reasons why Connor should come along, and then proceeded to give an even longer list as to why he should convince Hank to join him.

Hank doesn’t want to but he’s already resigned himself to attending - ‘cause god knows he can’t say no to Connor  - but he doesn’t want to give the impression that he was that easily convinced.

He starts the car, merges with the traffic carefully. “You don’t know that,” he says. “You’ve never been to one of these things before: everyone wears shit costumes and we have to spend the entire night pretending we don’t all hate each other.”

Connor frowns. “But you don’t all hate each other.”

“I hate Reed,” he points out.

“You don’t _hate_ Detective Reed, Hank.”

Okay, he’ll give him that one. “Doesn’t mean I want to spend my night off hanging out with them.”

Connor turns to look out his window. Hank can see him in the side-wing mirror, has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing because Connor is full-on pouting.

Hank continues, “You know you can just go without me, right? Not like we’re attached at the hip or anything.”

“I know that.” He fiddles with the edge of his sleeve, LED flashes yellow once. “I understand if you don’t want to go, but I ... everything is better, if I’m with you.”

...

Well, shit.

Hank just feels like an asshole now. He sighs, scratches his head with his free hand. “...Damn, of course I’ll go.”

Connor’s LED is suddenly so blue it lights up the car, and his smile is just as bright.

It’s disgustingly adorable.

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor says happily. His LED is suddenly spinning fast, processing. “We will need to get costumes.”

“...Okay, I’m drawing the line there. I’m not gonna - don’t look at me like that, come on.”

*~*

They, of course, end up doing costumes.

Connor insists on getting everything himself, practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of going to a _fancy dress party_ of all things. He doesn’t tell Hank anything about what he has planned and Hank reckons he’s about to learn just how much he trusts his partner.

“You’re going to look great,” Connor tells him. It’s October 31st already, and Hank is starting to seriously question his commitment to this.

They’re in the bathroom, Hank seated on the closed toilet lid while Connor stands between his legs.

Connor’s gone all out, deciding to do hair and make-up after watching a few tutorials online. He’s spent the last ten minutes turning Hank’s flat hair in to something bushy and wild.

“Our costumes are going to match, too,” he continues, ignoring Hank’s wince as he starts backcombing, “though I tried to avoid the ‘couples costumes’ as much as possible.”

 _Because our relationship is a secret,_ the unsaid words linger in the air, leaving a bad taste in Hank’s mouth.

He’s not ashamed of Connor or their relationship, but the DPD still has these ridiculous internal fraternization rules and for once Hank wants to be greedy and keep something good to himself.

That, and he’s too fuckin’ scared about bringing it up with HR in case they spill the beans and he finds himself without a partner and Connor is transferred to a different district.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Connor murmurs. He carefully cards a hand through the artistic mess that he’s no doubt making of Hank’s hair. Hank leans in to the touch, making Connor smile. He seems happy with whatever the hell he’s done and goes to pick up one of the many make-up brushes he’d come home with earlier in the week. He selects a palette that looks like it’s mainly made up of greys, browns, and blacks. He picks a colour and start brushing along Hank’s jaw.

“Yeah, sorry, just fucking sucks that we have to hide it.”

“What would you do if we didn’t have to?” Connor asks.

Hank hums thoughtfully. “I’d probably get distracted a hell of a lot more.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He put his hands on Connor’s waist, rubs his thumbs against the android’s hipbones. Takes pleasure in the way Connor’s LED stutters. “I’d definitely get less work done at the precinct.”

“You barely get any work done now,” Connor teases. Hank pinches his side and Connor huffs out a laugh, swats his hand away. “But I believe I understand what you mean. It would be ... inconvenient; unproductive.”

“Mm, tell me more.”

“ _Hank_ ,” Connor complains but he’s clearly trying hard not to laugh. “You need to stay still or I’ll do this wrong.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad. We could stay home, hang out on the couch.” He slips the tip of one thumb down, hooking just under the waistband of Connor’s boxers. “Or maybe in the bedroom.”

The lenses in Connor’s eyes dilate a little, one of the many micro functions installed to help him replicate human behaviour.

Hank fucking loves that he can elicit these responses.

Connor visibly swallows. “Maybe, if you play nice tonight, I’ll have a reward for you when we get home.”

Hank grins, pulls Connor in closer between his thighs.

“But only once we get home.”

“Damnit, there’s no way you’re changing your mind?”

“Nope,” Connor says cheerily. “Now, stay still while I finish.”

Hank sighs dramatically, but stills obediently.

*~*

Connor kicks him out of the bathroom twenty minutes later with the instructions to get dressed and, most importantly, not to ruin all of Connor’s hard work.

It doesn’t take Hank long to figure out exactly what Connor has decided to dress him up as.

He surveys his partner’s [work](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/4a/7a/43/4a7a43df80b67f2e0c3d62ec38523f06--halloween-face-makeup-halloween.jpg) in the wardrobe mirror and can’t deny that he’s impressed: Connor’s styled his hair so that it resembles a mane but it’s nowhere near as messy as he’d expected it to be. Connor’s also clipped on a couple of accessories too, and had made Hank close his eyes while he did so. He sees them now though: [two big ears](https://pm1.narvii.com/6983/49884d1f0a34bc8fbcf057c29d940a724cd8dceer1-340-270v2_00.jpg) perched on the sides of his head in such a way that they almost look like a natural extension of his body.

The face paint is fucking spectacular as well. Hank doesn’t know what he was expecting but not something like this: Connor’s coloured around his eyes to make them look darker, accented his brows and cheekbones and carefully drawn ‘hair’ in lines around his face which blend almost seamlessly into his actual hair and beard.

The colours all match his natural tones, too.

It’s tasteful, and _way_ less overt that Hank was imagining.

He changes in to the clothes that Connor handed him and chuckles when he sees the fluffy grey and white tail that’s attached to the back of the black jeans.

 _Some kind of dog then_ , Hank thinks. He dresses carefully, not wanting to ruin Connor’s work, and checks himself out in the mirror.

He doesn’t look half bad like this, actually. Simpl black v-neck, black jeans (though a little tighter than what he’d typically buy for himself: it’s been an age since he wore skinny jeans but _damn_ , he actually looks pretty good), and a black leather jacket.

All of the clothes have been artfully torn or marked up in some way, give him a kind of ruggedly scruffy look.

Nodding his approval, Hank heads in to the living room and starts getting everything switched off before they leave.

Sumo wanders over at his approach, his tail wagging curiously as he inspects Hank’s new look. He sniffs about, _arfs_ happily when he notices Hank’s own tail.

Hank grins. “Sorry buddy,” he says. He reaches down to squish Sumo’s face between his hands. “This isn’t permanent.”

Sumo licks his hand, so Hank figures that he’s forgiven.

The bathroom door clicks as it unlocks and Hank hears Connor’s footsteps as he walks down the hall. He braces himself for whatever Connor has decided to dress up as.

Hank straightens up, turns to face him.

He blinks in surprise when he sees his partner. Looks him up and down. Twice.

“Oh dear god,” he whispers to himself.

Connor stops a few paces in front of him. “What do you think?” he asks innocently, giving Hank a slow twirl. “Is it okay?”

Hank tries to swallow but his mouth is suddenly dry.

 _Dead puppies,_ he thinks. _Getting kicked in the nuts. Wet cotton wool._

Connor tilts his head to the side, frowns. “What was that?”

Shit, he said that last one out loud.

“You look...” Hank clears his throat.

“It isn’t too much, is it?”

Hank hurriedly shakes his head, but he’s also struggling with the idea of Connor going outside looking like _that_.

He suddenly understands that he’s not just dressed up as some dog: Hank’s has to be a wolf, because Connor is dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.

He’s clearly bought the [costume](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2130/2525/products/S7110-F.jpg?v=1533196516) from some party store, and it’s one of those dresses designed with a woman in mind: short with lacy ends and a deep neckline meant to accentuate cleavage. It’s a deep red with a corset over the top, cinched to give the impression of feminine curves, the material stopping mid-thigh with more of that black lace over milky-white skin.

It’s complete with a cape, clasped at the front of the neck and hood up over Connor’s head. His hair is looser, curlier than usual, and Hank distantly wonders what he needs to do to persuade Connor to keep it like that.

He’s wearing knee-high boots ( _boots!)_ with stockings peeking out over the top and – yep, there’s more lace trimming there.

Hank is trying really, really hard to keep his blood from rushing south.

_Reed’s flaccid dick._

“You look incredible,” Hank says honestly because holy shit, Connor is pulling this off like no-one else. There’s so much creamy skin on display and Hank can see the random freckles that are scattered across his body and Hank is _weak_.

Connor is so fucking happy at the compliment, his LED spinning bright blue. “Really?”

“Really. You’ll be the best dressed at the party.”

“I doubt that,” Connor says. He studies Hank up and down, slowly, taking in everything. “You look very handsome like this. Dangerous, too.”

“Yeah? You like dangerous?”

Connor’s LED pulses yellow, considering. “Maybe I do.”

Fuck, Hank isn’t going to survive tonight.

Connor is still watching him, and for a moment Hank actually thinks that he’s going to change his mind and demand they stay in.

But then the android shakes it off, grabs his basket (where the fuck did that come from) and says his goodbyes to Sumo.

Hank subtly adjusts himself and grabs the car keys

It’s going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hank: i am never doing this thing again  
> connor: i am interesting in doing this thing  
> hank: ... well okay i guess
> 
> stay tuned 'til next time - there might be porn.
> 
> constructive criticism is appreciated!
> 
> ps. i don't know why the end note from the first chapter is also appearing beneath this? does anyone know how to fix this??


	3. Drive Wolves Mad, part 2/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this section was only meant to be two parts long but the porn demands a chapter of its own tbh. 
> 
> i shouldn't even be working on this, i've got a big bang fic to finish in the next 4 days

The party’s already in full swing by the time they arrive.

As usual, it’s being held in one of the rooms in the basement of the DPD building. Whoever plans these events has gone all out, covering every surface with that stupid plastic tape that says shit like _DANGER!_ and _ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK_. There’s the annoying, stringy cobweb stuff hanging from the ceiling and Hank has to duck to avoid getting his hair tangled up in it.

Connor says he needs to check on something at their desk, so he’s up in the bullpen at the moment and Hank arrives by himself. The inside of the room is just as bad as the hallway, except with more tacky decorations and hundreds of little plastic lights shaped like pumpkins. Someone has put on ambient ‘spooky’ sounds instead of music which is already grating on Hank’s nerves.

He immediately heads over to where the drinks are being served. He’s tempted to grab himself a beer, but then he remembers that he and Connor have... plans for the rest of the evening. He kinda wants to have his wits about him when that happens.

He takes a soda instead.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” someone says behind him. “The old dog that can’t learn new tricks?”

“Ha fucking ha,” Hank drawls. He snaps the soda can open, chugs half of it before even looking at Reed. “At least mine’s obvious. What are you, a tax accountant?”

“What? No!” Reed scoffs. He holds his arms out, showing off his cheap suit and tan trench coat. “I’m Columbo.”

Hank frowns, thinking, “That old TV detective?”

“I think you mean one of the _greatest_ TV detectives of all time.”

“Honestly? That's a bit of a dated reference, even for me.”

Gavin just shrugs, unaffected. “You know you love it.” He takes a glance around the room, eyes searching. “Where’s the tin can, anyway? He ditch you already?”

Hank’s saved from ever answering as Connor chooses that exact moment to appear beside him. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, Lieutenant,” Connor says. “I have finished my business upstairs. Oh!” Connor blinks when he spots Reed on Hank’s other side. “Hello Detective Reed. Are you enjoying the party?”

“...”

Hank glances back at Reed, unnerved by his uncharacteristic silence, only to see that the detective has turned the most hilarious shade of red that Hank has ever seen.

“Uh,” Reed says, stunned.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognise your costume,” Connor continues, completely unperturbed by Reed’s lack of answer. “Do you mind enlightening me?”

Hank’s gonna bust a rib from trying not to laugh. Reed’s taking in the entirety of Connor’s costume and normally Hank would be tempted to punch him for even _breathing_ in Connor’s direction, but the look of absolute confliction on Reed’s face is too hilarious to miss.

Reed flushes even darker, and then he starts backing up. “I uh, I’ve got somewhere to be,” he stutters, and promptly walks away from the conversation.

Hank at least waits until he’s out of earshot before he cracks up, almost doubling over. Connor just looks perplexed.

Hank laughs even harder.

*~*

The party isn’t all that bad in the end. It’s a lot less chaotic than the one Hank attended all those years ago: he winds up spending a good chunk of the evening catching up with Chris and Ben, and even Fowler, and pointedly stays away from the candy bucket.

Hank’s reminded that he still has friends in his job and feels a pang of guilt for almost letting these friendships slip by him. In the end he makes plans to go watch the game with Ben and Fowler later that week, and promises to swing by Chris’ place to meet his newborn daughter.

“Two kids now, eh?” Hank comments, when there’s a lull in the conversation. There’s an impromptu dance floor starting up in the middle of the room now that they've put on actual music. A few inebriated co-workers shuffle loosely around each other. He and Chris watch with amusement as a few of them bump into each other before starting the worst conga line that Hank has ever seen. “One ankle-biter wasn’t enough?”

“I’ve got five siblings, you know that?” Chris says. “My parents didn’t want any of us to ever feel alone, and we never did. I want my kids to have that same childhood, to feel like they can depend on each other. I’m nowhere near done yet.”

“You managed to talk Darryl in to this?”

“Please,” Chris smirks, “Darryl’s one of nine. If anything, I had to talk him _down._ ”

Hank gives a low whistle, impressed. It’d just been him and his dad growing up, though he suspects there might be a half-brother or sister out there that his old man never told him about. Hank remembers finding a photo in the car one day, hidden at the back of the glove box. Hank didn’t recognise the kid, was told to mind his own business when he’d asked about it. The photo was snatched out of his hand and he never saw it again.

It might’ve been nice, having a few others around the house to keep him company on the nights his dad worked late. Or it might’ve been awful sharing his space with someone else when he only wanted peace and quiet. He used to think it would be the latter but Connor’s since managed to carve himself space in to Hank’s sorry life, slotted in to it so easily it’s almost hard to believe that he hadn’t always been there.

Speaking of...

Throughout all of this evening Hank has kept one eye on Connor as the android wanders the room. His partner is splitting his time between hanging out with Hank and conversing with their colleagues. They’re not the only ones dressed up, thank god, but Connor seems to be the only one drawing everyone’s stares.

Hank wanders if their co-workers even realise that they’re inadvertently checking out their resident android.

Reed spends the rest of the evening making sure that he’s keeping as much distance between him and Connor as possible. It’s one of the most entertaining things Hank’s seen in a while.

He can’t fault everyone for wanting to look: Connor looks hot, and his ignorance to the stares he’s attracting only seems to make him that more alluring.

Even from this distance, Hank can see one of the freckles on the back of Connor’s thigh, peeking out from that stupid frilly lace...

“Connor really went all out for this, didn’t he?”

Hank startles and turns back to see Martyn Wilson join them, nodding in greeting to him and Chris, and Hank reminds himself that it’s not kosher to be checking out his partner while at a work function no matter how edible he looks.

_Big bad wolf indeed_ , Hank thinks.

He says, “He’s never been to a Halloween party before, and he doesn’t do anything by halves.”

“Oh yeah ... guess he wouldn’t have really noticed it the first time around,” Wilson comments, taking a swig from his beer.

Hank sometimes forgets that Wilson is one of the first officers Connor came in to contact with (certainly the first human life the android saved) back when CyberLife first assigned him to investigate deviancy. Wilson is a quiet guy, not rude or anything but just prefers to keep to himself. Hell, Hank only found out that he even knew Connor because his partner greeted him one day as Wilson passed their desks and asked how his arm was healing.

He’s a good guy, and an even better cop.

But if he doesn’t stop looking at Connor’s legs then Hank’s going to have to consider getting something with alcohol.

Connor must have some sort of built in radar for when Hank’s patience starts to wear thin (fuck, of course he does, he’s a goddamn android) because he’s starts walking towards them, smiling pleasantly.

Maybe ‘walking’ is the wrong word because Connor’s hips are fucking _swaying_ and Hank tries to keep his eyes trained on Connor’s face, he really does, but now he’s looking at Connor’s little smirk and fuck the whole ‘being ignorant’ thing cause Connor knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

He comes to stand next to Hank, smiles pleasantly at their co-workers. “This is a wonderful party,” he comments. He’s holding a glass of something blue and carbonated, little bubbles fizzing and rising to the surface. He still has that fucking basket looped around his elbow. “I didn’t realise there would be dancing.”

Wilson smiles, “Have you ever danced before, Connor?”

“No, I haven’t had the opportunity.”

“Would you like to?”

Connor pauses. Leans almost imperceptibly towards Hank, like he’s expecting Hank to protest the invitation but hey, Hank’s not gonna be the guy that stops his partner from having a good time. ‘Sides, it’s not like Connor can’t handle himself.  He takes a sip of his drink, makes it clear that he’s not gonna say anything and it’s hardly more than a second or two before Connor’s smiling brightly.

“I’d like that, Martyn,” he says. “Thank you.” He hands Hank his basket for safe keeping and walks with Wilson to the makeshift dance floor. His LED circles yellow a couple of times and suddenly he’s blending in seamlessly with everyone else dancing around.

Fucker went and downloaded a How To Dance routine, the show off. Their other colleagues on the floor cheer when he joins them and Connor smiles happily.

“Damn, your boy’s putting the rest of them to shame,” Chris appraises after a moment of watching.

“He’s not my boy,” Hank says.

“Uh-huh.”

Chris’ disbelieving tone has Hank glancing at him sideways. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks gruffly.

“Hank I’ve known you for almost twelve years, you can’t hide anything from me.” He pauses. “Or Jeffrey.”

_Shit,_ Hank thinks. Busted. He takes a long drink of his soda, stalling as much as possible.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he decides on. Better to plead ignorance, he figures.

Chris just snorts, rolling his eyes. “Deny as much as you want but we know what we see. Never seen you clean up for someone so fast, not to mention he’s got you in _couples’ costumes._ ”

“...Damnit, Connor...”

Chris laughs. “Don’t worry, we ain’t telling. Just keep doing what you’re doing and continue to keep it out of the office. HR doesn’t need to know.”

He’s oddly touched for some reason. He clears his throat. “Thanks, man.”

“No worries.” Chris look out over at the dance floor and smirks. “Might want to keep an eye on Martyn though...”

Hank follows his gaze just in time to see Wilson spin Connor around by the hand. The android looks happy though, a pleased flush high on his cheeks and laughter on his lips. His LED is a contented blue.

 Wilson spins him again and Hank’s eyes are drawn down to Connor’s dress as it twirls, shows a little bit more of that smooth, milky thigh. One of his stockings has slipped down slightly.

“...You know you’ve been looking at him like that all night? Like you wanna rip the dress right off of him?”

“Shut up,” Hank says, but he’s grinning anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reed: *sees connor* i am confused and conflicted   
> connor: and aroused  
> reed: ...  
> connor: ... i scanned you.   
> reed: (ʘᗩʘ’)
> 
> next time there will be porn, i promise.


	4. Drive Wolves Mad, part 3/3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank finally gets to fuck Connor in that outfit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at the 6,075 words of this chapter*  
> *looks at the length of the first three chapters*
> 
> Uh ... oops?
> 
> (currently un-beta'd, apologies for any errors)

Hank has almost forgotten about Connor’s little promise by the time they return home. It’s just gone past 1am, much later than Hank expected them to be out, and when they arrive home he’s feeling the beginnings of tiredness start to creep in around the edges. He lets Sumo out back to do his business while Connor locks up, yawning while he waits for Sumo to come back inside. When the dog waddles in he heads straight for his bed, flopping over with a sigh as he goes back to sleep.

“So maybe that party wasn’t such a disaster after all,” Hank says once he’s locked the back door.

Connor hums from the living room, “You certainly seemed to enjoy speaking with our colleagues-- even Detective Reed, after a while.”

Reed had eventually gravitated over to where Hank stood speaking with Chris and yeah, he’d admit to himself that Reed wasn’t actually bad company when he got his head out of his ass. Didn’t mean he was going to say it out loud though.

“I wonder what had him so ... preoccupied,” Connor says. His voice has a strange, strained note to it. When Hank looks over he sees the android stretching, his hands reaching up to the ceiling, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as he does so. The motion makes his dress creep up, revealing that freckle that Hank had his eye on earlier.

Hank licks his lips. When his eyes flicker back up to Connor’s face he sees that the android is smirking at back at him. Hank clears his throat. “You know exactly what you were doing,” he grumbles, trying to run through his hair but it’s so backcombed that it doesn’t budge. “You’re a goddamn tease.”

Connor looks very self-satisfied with himself. He looks down at his costume, runs his hands down the tight fabric of his corset and Hank can’t help but track his movements, his own fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch. “I am very fond of this outfit,” he says, playing with the laces of the corset. “It’s a shame I can’t wear it every day.”

 _Abso-fucking-lutely_ , Hank thinks. He never would have thought that Connor wearing a dress would be a _thing_ for him but he’s discovering a lot of new things that he never considered until Connor came along. “It’s a good look on you,” he says, his voice coming out as a low and gruff.

Connor looks at him, his LED circling lazily and then he’s smirking again, his eyes going big and dark and suddenly Hank remembers what Connor said to him earlier. Connor approaches him slowly, hips swaying enticingly-- and jesus fuck _where did he learn to walk like that?_ \--he stops just bare centimetres from Hank’s chest, reaches out to trail his fingers along the bit of skin exposed by the dip in Hank’s shirt. 

“I believe I promised you a reward for behaving tonight,” he says. He’s looking up at Hank from under his lashes, coy little smile pulling at his lips.

Hank’s blood rushes south so fast he almost feels lightheaded.

Connor continues, “I could feel you watching me all night. Like you were hungry for me.” He’s tilting his head up, his lips so close that it wouldn’t take much for Hank to lean down and claim them, but Connor apparently isn’t done yet. “Tell me ... what does the big, bad wolf want?”

Hank huffs out a laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Here he is, a old man standing in his living room and staring down at his younger partner, both of them dressed up for Halloween.

It’s silly, but he can play along.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, sweetheart,” Hank says, uses the pet name ‘cause he knows how much Connor loves it and sure enough the android’s cheeks flush a light blue, a faint dusting across his smattering across his skin. “Flaunting that perfect body right under my nose, making me want to drag you into a dark corner and claim you for myself.”

Connor bites his lip, trying not to smile. “What will you do with me, now that you have me?”

Hank wants to tease him back, but he kinda also wants to play dirty. He steps closer until he’s almost towering over Connor, relishes the way Connor’s LED blips yellow briefly. “I wanna drag you to bed,” he growls out, holding Connor’s eyes with his own. “Hold you down and mark you all over: push your dress up and fuck you with that cape spread out underneath you. Make you scream my name,” he smirks, “Little Red.”

Connor’s reaction is instant: his mouth drops open and his LED pulses red so fast that his whole body kind of jolts. His pupils dilate so much that they practically absorb the brown of his eyes and a stuttered breath leaves his lips.

“Oh,” Connor says, surprised.

Well ... this is new.

Hank wouldn’t say that they’re vanilla in bed, but they definitely know what they like and don’t really care for actively exploring too far outside of what they already find comfortable. A lot of the things they try are just done in the heat of the moment. They’ve never tried role-play before, and from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem to be something that Connor has considered either, but this could be... interesting.

Hank definitely can’t keep his hands to himself any more: he runs them down Connor’s sides, caressing the shape of him over the dress, only stopping when he reaches that lacy trim at the top of his legs. He plays with the flimsily material there, fingers grazing the bare skin of Connor’s thighs, and feels Connor shiver against him.

“You like that idea?” he asks. “You want the big, bad wolf to spread you out, fuck you open with my fingers, nice and slow?”

“Ah,” Connor breathes, and that little noise turns him on so much that Hank’s dizzy for a moment.

As intriguing as this he needs to make sure they’re definitely on the same page. “Yeah? You good with... this?” Whatever this is.

He needn’t have worried-- Connor’s nodding frantically before he’s even finished talking. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Hank, _please_.”

Hank pinches his rear. Connor gasps. “What did you call me?”

Yellow LED. “Please, _sir_.”

Hank groans, dick already rock hard and he’s barely been touched yet. “Good enough,” he growls before crushing their lips together.

The kiss is absolutely _filthy._ Connor opens his mouth and lets Hank do all the work, runs his tongue over all the sensitive spots that Hank knows of: the places where his teeth meet his artificial gums, the roof of his mouth, across Connor’s tongue and over all of those delicate little sensors that let him analyze shit. Connor whimpers at the last one and practically turns in to putty against Hank. He wraps his arms around Hank’s neck to help hold him up, his body pressing tight against Hank’s front. He’s just as hard underneath that dress, much to Hank’s delight, so he slides a thigh between Connor’s legs and the android fucking _keens_.

“ _You’re in to this_ ,” Hank breathes into the bare space between their lips. He finally slips his hands up and grabs Connor’s ass, pulls the android towards him, and grinds his thigh against Connor’s dick. “I’m gonna take such good care of you, Red.”

Connor shudders, hips bucking against Hank. “O-oh shit,” he stutters. Hank lands a light smack against his ass and Connor’s entire body rocks. “ _Ngh!_ ”

“You ain’t allowed to swear, sweetheart. It’s not polite.”

“S-sorry, sir.”

Fuck, Hank isn’t gonna survive this. He needs to get them in to the bedroom _now._ He reaches down and grabs Connor’s thighs. “Come on, up you go,” he says, patting the back of his legs. Connor jumps up and wraps his legs around Hank’s waist, locking them tight behind his back while his arms winds around Hank’s neck. He grunts a little at the extra weight but Connor’s not that heavy, so he carries him through to the bedroom, Connor’s dick pressed tight between their bodies.

Connor rolls his hips as best as he can, sighing happily at the friction he gets from it and Hank delivers another sharp slap to his rear. “ _Oh!_ ”

“Yeah, you like that, Red?”

“Yes, sir,” Connor breathes. Hank smacks him again and he feels Connor’s legs tighten around him, his hips rocking with the motion.

Hank kicks the bedroom door closed behind them and deposits Connor on to the mattress as gently as he can. Connor ends up sprawled on his on his back, arms resting up near his head, cheeks tinged blue and eyes practically black. That cape is fanned out underneath him and Hank wishes he had the ability to capture this moment in his mind like Connor can because this is something he never wants to forget. He takes his sweet time looking, memorising every little detail while Connor starts to squirm against the mattress.

“ _Haaank_ ,” he whines, hips twitching up in a little thrust.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Hank soothes. He slips the jacket from his shoulders and undoes a few more buttons of his shirt, smirking when he notices Connor watching him closely. He kneels on the bed, straddling one of Connor’s legs and places a large hand on his thigh, caressing the bare skin there. “I’m not gonna rush this; wanna take my time and get you off first. How does that sound, Red?”

Connor nods. He reaches for Hank and Hank obliges him, crawling up Connor’s body to meet him in a hungry kiss that Connor pushes his whole body in to, arching up against Hank’s stomach. Hank grabs Connor’s chin and forces him to slow down, taking control of the kiss with a growl.

He sees Connor’s LED flash red again in the corner of his eye and chuckles. “You’re eager tonight,” he murmurs against Connor’s lips. He uses his grip to turn Connor’s head, exposing his neck and starts kissing along his jaw. Connor shivers. “I’ve not seen you this desperate in a while. What’s got you so worked up, huh?”

Connor exhales heavily, fingers winding themselves through Hank’s hair. “It’s this-- I can’t ... You just look _so good_ and I--” he breaks off with a gasp as Hank rolls his hips. “I’ve been thinking about this _all night_.”

“Got yourself a little over-excited?” Hank’s grinning down at the absolute mess his partner is gradually turning into. He grinds down again, holds his hips down this time just to watch Connor squirm. “The thought of getting fucked by the Big Bad Wolf turned you on that much?”

“You are, ah, _not helping_.” Connor punctuates his point with a sharp tug to the fake ears that are still pinned firmly in place on Hank’s head.

It hurts but it’s the good kind and Hank growls again and kisses Connor, bites his bottom lip and pulls for good measure. Connor’s legs have wrapped back around his waist at some point and they squeeze him a little bit tighter. “So needy,” Hank breathes against wet lips. “Alright, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart, since you’ve been waiting so long.”

 “Thank you, sir,” Connor says, a little smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Hank can’t resist leaning in one more time for a kiss before he starts sliding down Connor’s body, hands running over the smooth material of the corset and then the dress. Connor trembles when he pauses with a hand spread on each thigh, thumbs teasing just under the hem of the dress.

 “You gonna be good for me?” Hank asks. Connor bites his lip and nods. Hank smacks one thigh, the sound loud in the bedroom, and Connor’s hands twist in the sheets. “Out loud, Red.”

Connor looks ready to fall apart. Perfect. “I’ll be good, sir.”

“Good boy.” Hank grins when Connor’s tenses. “Now, get on your stomach.”

Connor scrambles to turn himself over and Hank helps him get there, grips his hips and angles Connor into position with his head down against the bed while his rear remains up in the air. Hank shimmies the hem of the dress up over his ass, cursing when he sees the flimsy bit of material he’s using for underwear. “Christ, Connor, you wore this out?” He pulls the string of the thong and lets it snap back against Connor’s skin.

“Unf,” Connor grunts out. He turns his head, watching Hank from the corner of his eye. “It was the only thing that wouldn’t show beneath the end of the dress.”

Hank tugs the material to the side, taking in how the string is already damp and when he gets a good look-- yep, Connor’s hole is already glistening with lubricant, making the back of his thighs damp. Hank rubs his thumb around the rim, has to reach down and palm himself with his other hand when his thumb slides in with no resistance. “Fuck sweetheart, you’re soaking wet.” He gets his thumb all the way in and Connor makes a frustrated noise and pushes his hips back.

“Not enough,” Connor pants against the duvet. “More. _Please_.”

And who is Hank to deny him anything?

Hank gets comfortable between Connor’s thighs, slipping his thumb out while he settles and delivers another warning pinch to Connor’s leg when he whines plaintively. “You said you’d be good, Red.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says, sounding anything but. “I’ll be good now, sir.”

Hank grins and nips playfully at the back of a milky thigh, tasting those freckles that were taunting him early that evening while Connor twirled around the dance floor. It’s a little wet with lubricant, so Hank takes his time licking that up, tasting the _nothingness_ that is Connor. It used to unsettle him, those first few fumbling times when he and Connor started doing this, but now he was addicted to it, a stark reminder that Connor wasn’t human and Hank _loved it_.

Connor trembles throughout it but stays still, only a soft groan escaping him, muffled by the duvet.

“Good boy,” Hank mumbles against artificial skin, just to hear Connor gasp. He spreads Connor’s cheeks and takes a second to admire the view before he presses the flat of his tongue right against his hole, groaning at the wetness and the heat.

Connor practically squeaks, his whole body tensing again. “Oh,” his breath hitches when Hank pushes his tongue inside. “O-oh, _Hank_.”

They’ve only done this a couple of times-- Connor is usually too impatient or they don’t have enough time to really get in to the foreplay before getting off, but Hank is feeling a good kind of lazy tonight, so he settles in with the intention of driving Connor insane.

He goes slowly at first, barely dipping the tip of his tongue inside before pulling back out. Does it a few more times because it has Connor gasping prettily above him, his hips twitching as he tries to remain still. He pushes in a bit deeper, strokes his inside walls with his tongue, just as hot and soft as any human but so much better.

The fuckers at CyberLife really outdid themselves with Connor.

He keeps it up for a while, penetrating Connor a little more each time his tongue gets inside until Connor his panting and shivering, his hips now thrusting back rhythmically on to Hank’s face.

“Please, Hank, I need... I need-- _ah!_ ”

Hank shushes him with a soothing stroke up his thigh as Connor adjusts to the two fingers Hank has replaced his tongue with. They’ve been at this long enough for Hank to know he can take it-- could easily take four fingers right off the bat-- but Connor prefers the human way to do this: slow and steady, Hank opening him up gradually on his fingers before sliding his cock home. Says it draws everything out, sends his internal sensors into delicious overload.

“There you go, baby,” Hank praises when he feels Connor relax around him. Rewards him with a few shallow thrusts, his hand barely moving. “That’s so good, you’re doing so good.”

Connor breaths out and pushes back on to Hank’s fingers. “Thank you, s-sir.”

“You look so pretty like this: taking me so well. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Hank scissors his fingers, stretching artificial tissue that feels too perfect to be anything other than inhuman. His fingers glance across that exposed bundle of wiring and Connor’s back arches, a strained cry leaving his lips. Hank thrusts in a few more times before taking his fingers out and quickly pushing back in with three. He fucks Connor steadily like that for a while, taking in every twitch, every sound that Connor makes, until he hears Connor’s internal fans kick up a notch and Connor starts gasping.

“Hank,” Connor moans in between breaths. He grinds back, meeting each one of Hank’s thrusts. “More. Please, I need more.”

Hank pushes in deep, the pads of his fingers pressing against that bundle of wires and rubs against it. Connor’s reaction is instant: he freezes and makes a guttural mechanical sound from deep inside before relaxing and crying out.

“That’s it, baby,” Hank praises, while Connor’s systems catch up with the sensory overload. “You gonna come like this?”

Connor nods against the bed, his fingers clutching desperately at the duvet, not stopping as he grinds back against Hank’s fingers.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Connor whimpers, sounding almost embarrassed, before turning his head to the side. Hank can see his LED pulsing red. “I-- I am. I’m going to-- to come.”

Hank sits up, knees popping as he goes, and settles in to watch the view. He thrusts his fingers in hard, Connor’s hips bucking.. “Go on then, Red. Take it.”

Connor doesn’t waste a second. He pushes up until he’s on his hands and knees and really starts thrusting backwards. Hank meets each thrust, has to push that stupid cape up Connor’s back along with the dress so that he has a good view of Connor working himself on Hank’s fingers.

Connor’s movements become more jerky the closer he gets to that precipice, every thrust punctuated with a small _ah_ or _oh_ and even a _fuck_ or two in there somewhere. Hank helps with him towards it, aiming for that bundle of wires with each thrust until Connor pushes back and stays there, grinding on Hank’s hand desperately.

“I can’t,” Connor pants, almost sobbing. “I-it’s too much.”

Hank leans forward, keeps his fingers pressed tight in Connor’s ass while he drapes himself across Connor’s back, practically on his hands and knees over his partner. “Thought you were gonna be good for me, baby,” Hank says in to his ear. He gives a particularly hard thrust with his fingers and presses tight against that sweet spot. Connor whimpers but can’t help pushing back. “I want you to come on my fingers. Won’t you be good for me?” He punctuates his question with a sharp nip to Connor’s earlobe.

The android shivers but nods, and after a few seconds Connor starts grinding back against his hand. Slowly, at first-- like he’s already oversensitive and _fuck_ he hasn’t even come yet-- but he gets bolder, his internal fans started to whirr again as he breathing picks up.

“That’s it,” Hank encourages, rubbing his fingers in time with Connor’s gyrating. “That’s good. You’re doing so good.”

“Fuck,” Connor grunts. He drops his head down between his shoulders. “Keep talking to me.”

Hank follows him down, pressing gentle kisses to the top of his spine. “You’re so pretty like this,” he breathes against his skin. “And everyone tonight could see how fucking gorgeous you are. Bet they wouldn’t mind seeing you like this, too.” Hank grins when Connor shudders. “I could watch you fucking my fingers all day long. You take them so well, do you know that? But you take my cock so much better.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“There you go,” Hank whispers. He can feel Connor tense and relax around his fingers as he starts builds up again. “You like hearing that?” Connor nods. “Well, you do. Once I get you off, I’m gonna flip you over and slide right in. You’ll be so loose and relaxed after this-- you’re gonna come so hard, I can already tell. Can you feel it, baby?”

“Yesss,” Connor hisses out. He’s rotating his hips faster now, Hank’s fingers still pressed tight against the wires. Hank feels his muscles start to flutter. “I’m almost there.”

Hank nudges at Connor’s cheek until he gets the hint and lifts his head up and Hank slots their mouths together. He starts putting a little more force in to the motion of his fingers while his tongue caressing the sensitive roof of Connor’s mouth. He begins thrusting his fingers in to his tight hole and Connor moves with him.

He has to break the kiss as Connor starts panting, little _ohs_ of breath that Hank is going to store away in his memory. Hank puts his whole body in to the next thrust and Connor fucking _breaks_.

It’s like the orgasm has been punched out of him unexpectedly, despite how long it’s been building up. Connor’s mouth falls open in a silent scream as his body jerks and rolls up against Hank’s. His skin glitches out for second before rebuilding, and then Connor groans, long and hard, and Hank swears he hears some sort of error noise from inside his chassis as his entire frame is rocked by the force of it all.

Hank works him through it, mumbling words of encouragement in to his ear as he rides it out like a wave, until Connor collapses on to the mattress with a final whimper.

Hank slips his fingers out, chuckling at Connor’s whine of protest, wipes them on the bedspread before leaning back down and kissing Connor’s shoulder. “Was that good, Red?”

“Fuck,” Connor says weakly, much to Hank’s delight. Connor’s skin is hot to the touch and Hank can only imagine the types of error messages that Connor must be getting.

Hank’s feeling pretty hot himself-- not surprising considering they’re both still fully dressed. But he really doesn’t have the patience to take any off apart from his belt which he only unbuckles enough to allow him to unzip his pants. He pushes a hand in to his boxers and groans as he grips his shaft, hot and hard and neglected throughout all of that.

Connor makes a noise of interest and looks back over his shoulder. “You gonna fuck me now?” he says. He’s almost slurring with how slow his processors are running.

Hank pauses, hand gripping the base of his dick. He’s not gonna lie, slipping in to Connor right now sounds downright delectable, but the android just got absolutely wrecked and Hank honest-to-god doesn’t mind bringing himself off just looking at the mess that he’s made of Connor. “Only if you’re up for it,” he says, seriously.

Connor scoffs and sluggishly starts rolling over on to his back. “Of course I am,” he says. “Besides, you promised that you’d make me scream your name.”

 _Cheeky little bastard_ , Hank thinks, shifting so that Connor’s legs are lying either side of his. The android’s an absolute mess on the front: the laces of the corset have started to work themselves lose, and there’s a giant wet spot on the front of that goddamn thong. Hank can’t resist bending down and licking at that damp patch.

“ _Hank_ ,” Connor protests, pushing at Hank’s head.

“Jesus fuck, you’re still hard.” It shouldn’t be surprising-- Connor has the benefit of just cancelling his refractory period-- but Hank wasn’t expecting him to be this ready so soon. “You sure you still want it?”

Connor looks up at him with a scathing glare. “Hank, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Bossy,” Hank grumbles. He grabs Connor by the hips and pulls him down the bed, drapes his slender legs over Hank’s thighs and takes a moment to just look.

Connor’s hair is mussed from having his head pressed down against the mattress for so long, and at the moment his LED is spinning a calming blue. The corset has slipped a little, one nipple exposed over the top. The dress is pooled up around his waist, revealing the skimpy underwear which is doing a poor job at concealing his erection, the head of which is peeking out at the top of the fabric. The stockings are still in place (barely) and Hank glides his hands down the sheer fabric, grips under Connor’s calves and drapes his legs over his shoulders.

Connor’s LED jumps to amber and he smiles up at Hank, eyes half-lidded. That red cape is spread out underneath him and Hank nearly groans a how fucking perfect it all is.

He bends over Connor to kiss him, the android laughing against his lips. “Come on then, Big Bad Wolf,” Connor says with a tug at the fake ears. “ _Take me_.”

Hank doesn’t need much more encouragement than that. He pulls Connor’s thong aside and slides home in to that slick heat in one move, both him and Connor groaning as he bottoms out.

“That’s better,” Connor says happily, canting his hips upwards.

Hank is inclined to agree. Connor is tight around his cock, gripping him in all the right places and Hank sighs in relief since it feels like heaven after ignoring it for so long. He’ll never get over just how perfectly he and Connor fit together like this. Connor swears up and down that he hasn’t _adjusted_ anything internally to do that, and claims that Hank is larger than average and therefore fills him to capacity.

Hank had hit him with a pillow when he said that, embarrassed but also pleased at the compliment.

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” Hank kisses him softly, gives an experimental thrust of his hips. Connor moans prettily and Hank tries to capture the sound with his lips. He starts up a steady rhythm, rolling in to Connor’s perfect ass while he bends his partner almost in half so that he can kiss him throughout it.

“Mm, Hank,” Connor murmurs, patting Hank’s hair and, by extension, his wolf ears. “Harder.”

“Yeah? You sure you can take it?”

“I can take it,” Connor promises, and that’s enough for Hank.

He pulls out and thrusts back in again, punching a gasp from Connor’s lips, sets up a brutal pace to satisfy the pent-up frustration inside of him. “Fuck yes,” Hank breathes. He slams in to Connor’s hole, relishing the hot drag of flesh against his cock when he’s inside. He’s going so hard that Connor has to brace himself on the headboard but going by the smile on his partner’s face he isn’t opposed to it.

Hank isn’t going to last, not after spending so long watching Connor get off, and he can already feel his orgasm start coiling hot in his belly. “Come on then,” he says to Connor. Reaches down and pulls that thong down a little so that he can wrap his hand around Connor’s cock, gives it a few tugs. “You got another one in you?”

Connor hisses, still sensitive, but bucks up into his grip. “Always. If,” he pants with a smirk, “you think you can get me there.”

Hank grumbles, “Fucking cheeky android,” and then really goes to town on his ass, fucking in as fast as he can while also striking Connor in tandem. Every thrust pushes him closer to that edge and he chases after it, egged on by those little breathy noises that Connor’s making every time he bottoms out.

Connor’s meeting his thrusts as best as he can in this position and Hank can tell he’s getting close by the way his LED stutters red and he starts clenching around him. But Hank remembers he’s supposed to make Connor scream tonight-- so he grits his teeth and grinds to a halt, quickly grips the base of his cock to stave off his impending orgasm.

“What-- _Hank_.” Connor looks so affronted it almost makes Hank laugh. “What are you doing?”

Hank’s already untangling Connor’s legs from his shoulders. “I promised to make you scream, sweetheart. That’s exactly what I plan on doing.” He takes Connor’s hands and tugs him up until Connor is straddling his lap and Hank is kneeling on the mattress.

“Oh,” Connor breathes, wide-eyed. “We’ve not tried his position before.”

“Exactly. You’re gonna love it.” Hank grips Connor’s hips and guides him back on to his cock. Connor’s eyelashes flutter as he sinks down, winds his arms around Hank’s shoulders. Presses their foreheads together. Hank waits until he’s fully settle on his lap. “You okay?”

Connor nods. “Yes. It just feels a lot... _more_.” His LED is going haywire.

“I know,” Hank soothes. Kisses Connor gently. “Come on, love. Let me hear your pretty voice.”

Hank’s first thrust up catches Connor off guard and he scrambles for purchases on Hank’s shoulders, cursing. He moves with the next thrust though, rolling his hips with the movement.

Connor speaks after a few more thrusts, “I can feel you so much deeper like this,” he says, gasping when one thrust pushes against his sweet spot. He kisses Hank sloppily, tongue dragging against his teeth. “It feels so good-- _you_ feel so good, Hank.” His LED starts spinning red. “I’m so close already, Hank.”

“I know, baby, I’ll take care of you.” Hank takes Connor’s dick in hand again, strokes him through each thrust, rubbing his thumb across the head. Connor moans against his lips, tangles his fingers through Hank’s hair again and rides it out.

Hank can’t go very fast, not like this, but this is nice and slow and deep and he feels his own orgasm start to build up from the base of his cock. Connor seems to be getting there as well, panting again and tightening his fingers in Hank’s hair, his hips already losing their rhythm. Hank shifts slightly, changing his position so that he’s nailing Connor’s bundle of wires with almost every thrust. The great thing about fucking this way is that it forces those wires right on to the head of Hank’s cock, rubbing against it relentlessly.

Connor starts whining against his neck where he’s buried his face in an attempt to muffle those noises but Hank uses his free hand to tug his head back by the hair, forcing him to look at Hank. “None of that,” he scolds, “I want to hear you.”

Connor nods, not hiding when Hank removes his and trails it down Connor’s back, slipping under the cape and fingering between his ass cheeks. Connor’s eyes widen when he realises what Hank it about to do and he grips Hank’s hair tighter when he feels a finger pressing in alongside Hank’s cock.

“Oh _yes_ ,” Connor groans, taking it like a pro and Hank grins as he thrust the finger in time with his dick. “Another,” he demands.

“Shit, really?”

“ _Another_ , Hank.”

“Alright, you’re the boss,” Hank concedes and pushes a second finger in. It’s a tight fight but Connor is nothing if not stubborn and he bears down on it with a shiver.

“Oh I feel so full,” Connor says. He looks drunk with pleasure and he rolls his hips back. “It feels amazing, Hank.”

Hank chuckles. “Yeah I bet.” They’ve not tried this with two fingers before, so he goes slower on the next thrust but he needn’t have worried: Connor just groans and grinds down, so Hank thinks “fuck it” and starts fucking up in to Connor as hard as he can.

Connor’s making those little noises again, soft _mms_ and _aahs_ until he’s shouting with every thrust. Hank works his fingers in as best as he can and pumps Connor’s cock faster because he can feel his own orgasm reaching a crest and he isn’t going to tumble over without Connor.

“Yes, yes, yes...”

“Come on, Connor,” Hank encourages. “You can do it love, come for me.”

His LED stutters in its cycle and Connor whines. “Say that again.”

“Huh?”

“Call me that again.”

Hank’s brain is a little fuck-out so he kinda has to think, figure out what Connor got focused on. He frowns, “...Love?”

“Hnh,” Connor grunts, and Hank feels him tighten around his cock buried deep in Connor’s ass.

Oh, this should be interesting.

Hank kisses him filthily, claiming Connor’s mouth and the android just lets him, far too distracted by the building tension in his frame. Hank breaks away and trails his kiss up Connor’s jaw to his ear, whispers, “You gonna come for me again?” he asks, squeezing the cock in his hand. “Think you can do it, love?”

Connor trembles in his arms and ruts between the hand at his cock and the fingers and dick in his ass. “I can, I am, I’m--”

And then he just goes silent. Hank watches as Connor’s LED starts spinning red, his mouth dropping open in a surprised “oh”. Then, he feels as Connor’s walls start contracting around his cock, faintly at first and then stronger and Hank continues to fuck him and realises that Connor _is_ coming, but it’s the slow kind where it builds and build and then breaks.

Hank can’t wait for it to break.

Connor’s gasping now and Hank swears he can feel Connor’s systems vibrating with the force of it all. Connor suddenly bucks hard into Hank’s hand once, twice and then he’s shouting Hank’s name and spilling between their bodies.

He’s clenching so hard around Hank’s cock and that combined with watching Connor fall apart pushes him over the edge. He removes his fingers so he can grab Connor’s hip and thrusts up, coming so hard he almost blacks out. He fills Connor up, pumping into him until he’s spent and sore, while Connor’s insides still flutter around him.

“H-holy shit,” Connor whispers shakily. His hands are trembling against Hank’s chest and his LED is still red.

“Fuck, you okay?”

Connor blinks at him, staring vacantly for a second before smiling dopily. “I’m great,” he mumbles.

Hank chuckles and carefully extracts his dick, lays Connor gently on his back on the bed. “You’re definitely going to be feeling that tomorrow.”

“Mmm, good.”

He lies down next to Connor, humming when the android turns to curl around his body. He tries to ignore the fact that they’re currently lying in sweat (Hank’s) and lubricant (Connor’s) and come (a little bit of both). He can’t be fucked with replacing the duvet and the least they could do it take off their clothes before they start to stick but Hank is suddenly so overwhelmingly tired and he cannot be fucked to move.

Connor seems to be feeling the same mood. He plays with the buttons on Hank’s shirt quietly for a moment, his LED now down to yellow. “You’ve never called me that before,” he says in to the silence.

Hank frowns, “I’ve never called you ‘love’ before?”

“Not to my knowledge, no.”

“Huh.” Hank cards a hand through Connor’s messy hair and the android sighs against him. “But you know... y’know.”

“Hm?”

Of all the things tonight, this is the one that is making Hank blush. “You know I love you, right?”

Connor shifts, looks up at Hank with eyes brimming with affection. He leans in, kisses Hank sweetly.

“Of course I know,” Connor says when he breaks away. “I love you too, Hank.”

“Well ... good. That’s... good. Yeah.”

Connor smiles and settles back in against Hank’s side, his breathing evening out as he prepares to go in to stasis.

Hank feels happy with how this night went, he realises. Maybe he should go along with Connor’s ideas more often but right now he has a more pressing issue.

“Connor? We need to get out of these clothes?” Silence. Hank cranes his neck to get a look at Connor’s LED, groaning softly when he sees that its dimmed to a faint blue, a sure sign that he’s already in stasis. Hank sighs, resigns himself to walking up in uncomfortable and come-stained clothes. He drops a kiss to Connor’s forehead before he closes his eyes.

Yeah. It was a good night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: Fuck me.  
> Hank: Well if you insist...
> 
> I didn't mean for this chapter to be this long. Honestly. I don't know where this came from. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated-- I've never written gay sex before.


	5. I Like Dogs, part 2

A few days after Halloween, they go to pick up the Akita puppy. Hank drives them up to the academy in Sterling Heights on their weekend off and Sophie Carter is waiting for them in the car park when they arrive.

“Thank you so much again for doing this, Connor,” she says as she leads them inside. It’s quiet indoors, only the occasional officer and their dog walking past. “It would break my heart to send to her to some stranger, so I’m really happy that you’re taking her.”

“Really, the pleasure is all mine.”

“She’s an absolute sweetheart,” Sophie continues, turning in to one of the side rooms. “She won’t cause you too much trouble, but she does need a lot of room to run. Do you have a back yard or a park nearby where she can run riot a few times a day?”

Connor speaks before Hank can stop him, “The Lieutenant’s back yard is more than spacious for her to get the appropriate amount of exercise.”

“Oh!” Sophie looks back at them in surprise. “She’ll be staying with Hank?”

Hank shoves Connor in to the room ahead of him, effectively cutting him off before he says anything else. He rubs the back of his neck, blushing. “She’ll, uh; she’ll be staying with _us_ ,” is all he says.

Sophie blinks once and Hank can see her connect the dots. She grins, slyly. “ _Hank Anderson,_ ” she teases, “have you shacked up with a subordinate?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

“Well. Makes me wish I’d joined in on the betting pool at the precinct now.”

Hank frowns as she closes the door. “The what now?”

“There is currently a bet circulating around the office regarding when we will, supposedly, ‘get together’,” Connor supplies, completely unaffected. “It closes when we announce our status as a couple and whoever guessed the closest date wins.”

Jesus… “People got nothing better to do with their free time,” Hank grumbles. Sophie has led them in to her office and there, in the corner of the room, is the Akita puppy dozing away. Connor is already making a beeline for her, so Hank hangs back. Really, he’s not surprised that a betting pool as started up at all. There isn’t much in the way of entertainment in the precinct-- hell, if he had the opportunity to earn a little extra cash through some harmless fun then he would have taken it, too.

Mostly, he’s just insanely curious about who’s going to win.

Connor’s managed to rouse the puppy and is on the receiving end of a hundred enthusiastic kisses as he sits cross-legged on the floor and lets the puppy clamber all over him. “Does she have a name?” Connor asks, on-between kisses.

“We’ve just been calling her ‘Trouble’. She doesn’t really respond to it anyway, so you’re welcome to pick something different.”

They eventually get to the process of adopting the dog once Connor can persuade her to leave his lap for a few seconds. Sophie retrieves a small packet of papers and a datapad, transfers the puppy’s vet records and gives them her certificate of health and has Connor sign the papers. He pays the adoption fee (a donation to the East Michigan K-9 Unit) and then Sophie is shoving a box in to Hank’s hands that contains some toys, a few days’ worth of puppy food and a blanket. She hands Connor a leash and harness, shows Connor how to put it on safely, and then she’s leading them back out of the building. The Akita scampers excitedly around Connor’s feet.

When they’re outside Sophie kneels down and gives the puppy a few scratches behind the ears, kisses her head affectionately. “Behave yourself,” she tells her. She’s immediately ignored when the puppy starts gnawing on her fingers, but Sophie doesn’t seem to mind. “Be good for Connor.”

The Akita barks.

*~*

The puppy is well-behaved in the car on the way home-- she sits on the floor between Connor’s feet and takes another nap, snuffling gently every time the car turns a corner. Connor spends the journey checking over her medical records, completes an application form for registering her to the same vet as Sumo and looks up a list of dog names.

“I was thinking of something with Irish origins,” he says to Hank. There is hundreds of website boasting the best Irish female dog names. He reads them all within seconds.

“Why’s that?”

“My name is Irish. I thought it would be fun to pick out something similar for her, but I can’t find anything that I like.”

Hank indicates left at the crossroads, waits for the junction to clear. “Finding a name that suits her is all part of the fun of getting a puppy.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Nuh-uh, I’m staying out of this one. I’ve already been through it all with Sumo.”

“How did you come up with his name?”

Hank gets quiet for a moment, and Connor realises he may have touched on a sensitive subject. Hank sighs. “Joanne picked it out,” he says. “She said he would grow into it eventually, but she never stuck around to see it.”

It’s Connor’s turn to be quiet now, unsure how to proceed. “...Sorry,” he says, quietly.

“It’s not your fault, Con. Was a fucking miracle that we managed to end it on good terms. Point is, I’m shit at picking names so you’re on your own with this one.”

The puppy wakes up as Hank pulls in to their driveway. She sits up and gives a wide yawn and shakes the tiredness off. Puts her front paws up on the chair between Connor’s legs and starts begging for cuddles.

 “I’ll go take Sumo out the back first, give her a chance to sniff around before he comes barrelling over,” Hank says. Connor nods, so Hank tosses the car keys to him and goes to unlock the house.

Connor attaches the leash to the harness again and lets the puppy jump out of the car first. She immediately starts sniffing about the driveway, her tail wagging as she takes in all the new scents. Connor locks up the car and waits until he hears the back door open and close before heading up the path to the porch, the puppy scampering after him.

She hesitates at the threshold of the open door, sniffs the air and whines.

“Come on,” Connor coos, already inside the house. “It’s okay, you can come inside.”

She steps inside cautiously, keeping low to the ground as she does. Connor closes the door gently behind her and takes off the lead (but leaves the harness on, just in case). She can obviously smell the presence of a much larger dog all over the place and it’s making her nervous. Connor sits on the floor next to her and she crawls in to his lap, whining softly.

Connor scratches gently behind her ears, runs his fingers through the soft fuzz of her white and red coat in an attempt to soothe her. “It’s alright. Sumo is very gentle-- he’s going to love you.”

She doesn’t understand a word that he’s saying, of course, but she licks his chin so he’ll take that as acceptance. She eventually gets bold enough to leave his lap and start carefully exploring the living room, sniffing the furniture and keeping clear of Sumo’s dog bed. She wanders in to the kitchen and checks out the water bowl, takes a few laps before her ears perk up and she looks at the back door. Connor can hear Sumo’s impatient whine coming from the other side.

“Are we good to go?” Hank asks through the door.

Connor beckons the puppy back over to him and he takes hold of the harness. “I’m ready,” he calls back. “Maybe you should hold on to Sumo’s collar first.”

The back door clicks open and Sumo wanders in, Hank following closely with a hand on his collar.

“Hang on, you big lug, let me close the damn door,” Hank grumbles, stretching back to reach the lock. Sumo has picked up on the new scent instantly and looks over at Connor. He barks excitedly when he sees the puppy.

The Akita is less certain and takes a few steps back. Connor’s heart sinks. “What if they don’t like each other?” he asks, worried.

“It’s fine,” Hank says. He approaches slowly with Sumo, giving the puppy plenty of time to watch them. “She’s just a little nervous. Sumo ain’t gonna hurt her.” They’re a few feet away now, and Sumo strains forwards to get closer to the new arrival.

The Akita takes one careful step forward at sniffs at the big dog. Sumo, getting impatient, crouches down on his forelegs and wags his tail. He barks playfully and sneezes.

Connor watches with relief as the puppy’s tail starts wagging as well, and she waddles over to Sumo and gets right up in his face for a good sniff. Sumo, being the good dog that he is, waits until she’s satisfied with her inspection before gently butting her with his head and sniffs back. Connor lets go of her harness and she prances around Sumo, barking at him.

“Well, that went smoothly,” Hank says, sighing in relief. He releases Sumo, who starts play-lunging at the puppy.

Connor smiles, pleased with the development. “They’ll be best friends in no time.”

Sumo chases the puppy around the living room and bumps in to the coffee table on his way past. The mugs on top rattle and a couple of pens fall to the floor. Hank winces. “Maybe we should let them get better acquainted outside.”

“Good idea-- I’ll let them out.”

*~*

Later that evening, Connor sits curled up against Hank’s on the couch, some old sci-fi tv programme playing in the background. Sumo is laid out at their feet, snoring, while the puppy has sprawled herself across Connor’s lap, also snoring. Occasionally, Connor will run a hand through her red and white fur and the puppy will grumble happily in her sleep.

“I think I’ve thought of a name,” Connor says during an ad-break. Hank is on his second (non-alcoholic) beer, and he tilts his head in Connor’s direction to show that he’s listening. “I have reviewed every list of dog names available on the intranet and have come to a decision.”

“Every page?” Hank repeats. “I wish I could say I’m surprised. Go on then, what have ya got?”

Connor looks down at her, already overwhelmingly fond of her. “Evie,” he says, confidently. He’d dedicated a lot of CPU to figuring out a name that sounded pleasing to him and was one that he could picture her growing in to.

Hank hums and looks over at her, too. “Evie,” he repeats. Then he nods, satisfied. “Yup. That’s a good one.”

“I know,” Connor says confidently.

On his lap, Evie yawns and cuddles closer towards Connor’s stomach.


	6. Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've jumped back in time a bit here, to around May 2039. Enjoy!

Connor sometimes goes out to lunch with his friends – well, he tells Hank that it’s lunch but the majority of his friends are androids so to Hank it’s less like ‘lunch’ and more like “lunch”. He doesn’t use the air quotations when Connor talks about it though, he’s not that much of an asshole.

The invitation always extends to Hank as well, and Connor assures him that his company would be welcome but Hank still feels weird about it, like he’s going to meet his boyfriend’s android family and the expectations give him raging anxiety. Connor’s practically their little brother, being the one that was activated the most recently, and he doesn’t know how he feels about getting the Shovel Talk from a group of people who could pull it off and make it look like an accident.

‘Sides, it’s not like Connor gets out much when he spends all of his time with a middle-aged, grumpy bastard like Hank.

“They all want to meet you,” Connor tells him at work. It’s been a blissfully quiet day and Connor is due for one of his lunches in an hour. They wrapped up their latest homicide yesterday and so far nothing else has come in so Hank’s spent the majority of the day playing Sudoku on his terminal and flicking little rolled-up balls of paper at Reed whenever his back’s turned. Speaking of…

“They all want to judge me, is what you mean.” Hank lines up his latest missile a few inches before the edge of his desk. He’s done this enough that he knows how to get it to land just right. He’s aiming for Reed’s coffee cup this time.

“They want to know more about you, apart from what I tell them. They seem to think that my perception may be biased.”

“Yeah well, it is.”

“I want you to meet them.” And fuck, there it is. Connor’s asking him for something. If Hank doesn’t look then he won’t really see the imploring look he can feeling Connor directing at him. “And they really do want to meet you. I promise they’ll be on their best behaviour.” He pauses. “Except for North. I can’t guarantee anything with her.”

He’s heard a lot of stories about her. “She’s the wild card, all right.” He flicks the paper across the bullpen and he and Connor watch as it arcs in the air and lands perfectly in Reed’s mug without a sound. There should be about three in there now, so Hank rewards himself with a silent fist pump. “You don’t want me to meet them, Connor. I’m not really…” He doesn’t want to say ‘boyfriend material’ ‘cause he and Connor have been together for nearly four months now, so he must be doing something right but he doesn’t really feel like he’s the kind of boyfriend you want to take out in public and introduce to your friends.

“Hank.”

He really tries hard not to look but Connor doesn’t say anything else and the side of his facing is starting to get warm from the laser focuses his partner has on him. He glances at him from the corner of the eye, hoping it won’t be as effective if he’s not staring straight on but he sees enough of Connor’s puppy-dog eyes and can feel his resolve crumbling out from under him.

“I really do want you to meet them,” Connor says earnestly, hesitant little smile curling the corner of his lips. It’s disgustingly sweet and Jesus H. Christ, Hank loves this man. “It would mean a lot to me.”

Hank already knows he’s going to say yes. He should know by now that he’ll give Connor what he wants eventually. He sighs and nods his head. “Okay okay. I’ll come to your stupid lunch,” he grumbles, but there’s no bite to the words and Connor lights up like the fuckin’ sun in happiness.

They make their way out of the bullpen half an hour later, clocking out for their lunch break. They pass Reed’s desk on their way out, the detective focused on his terminal, concentrating so hard that he doesn’t even bequeath them with a parting insult. Hank notices him absently reaching for his coffee mug and grins as the man goes to take a sip. He grabs Connor’s elbow and hurries them out. “Gotta make a speedy exit,” he says.

They’re just passed the security barrier when he hears a loud splutter followed by an appropriately livid, “ ** _Anderson!!_** ”

*~*

Connor and his friends apparently meet in a little out-of-the-way, hipster café about 20 minutes away from the precinct. It’s tucked away at the bottom of an alleyway, similarly obscure shops bracketing it on either side. All of the furniture inside is mismatched and there are fairy lights draped artistically in the window. A chalkboard sign indicates that there’s more seating up the stairs in the corner.

They’re the last ones to arrive, apparently. It’s easy to find them: they’re all cramped around wooden table that’s been pushed against the wall. Markus, Simon and North sit at one side of a wooden table while Josh sits opposite with the two Tracis from the Eden Club. Hank’s surprised to see the latter two, knowing that they don’t often make it to these little meetings as much as Connor does. They all smile when they greet Connor before welcoming Hank with a more subdued ‘we’ve never hung out before and this is probably going to be incredibly awkward’ hello.

Two chairs have been dragged to the end of the table, so Connor moves to sit in the one next to the Tracis. Hank takes the other one, sitting him right next to North. She doesn’t look impressed.

“How have you been?” Simon asks pleasantly once they’ve settled.

“Well, thank you,” Connor answers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last time. We had a difficult case to deal with.”

“Yes, we saw it on the news,” Markus says. “But we’re always happy when you can join us. And we’re glad that you’re here too, Lieutenant,” Markus smiles, and there’s a hint of smirk hiding in it. “Connor speaks very highly of you.”

Hank tries not to blush, he really does, but he feels the heat rising in his cheeks regardless. “Yeah. Same to you guys. Connor can’t shut up when he comes back from hanging out with you all.” Connor flushes this time too, but he’s smiling shyly.

“Let me introduce you to everyone,” Connor says. It’s a bit redundant: everyone knows who everyone is, but it’s the first time they’ve all officially met each other so Connor goes around the table, starting with North and ending with the Tracis next to him, who Hank learns now go by Hannah and Kelly. Hank waves awkwardly at them, not really sure what you say to the people who you fought in the storeroom of a sex club.

“Good to see you’re both doing okay,” he concludes, pathetically. “Sorry about … y’know.”

“It’s alright,” Kelly says, smiling softly. Her blue hair cascades over her shoulders. “And thank you.”

“And here you thought he was going to be an asshole,” Joshua leans over the table to poke North’s arm teasingly. She flinches away, glaring. “Look who was wrong.”

Simon sighs. “Guys. Please.” North opens her mouth to no doubt give a (probably pretty valid) list of reasons why she thinks Hank is an asshole when Markus gets a word in first.

“We didn’t know what to order for you,” he says, gesturing at Connor, “much less the Lieutenant, otherwise we would have gotten you something.”

“That’s alright, I got it,” Hank says, grateful for the chance to escape the table even if it’s only brief. He checks his coat for his wallet, asking Connor, “What can I get you?”

“A thirium cola, please.” He smiles adoringly. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says gruffly, but he squeezes Connor’s shoulder when he gets up. He makes his way up to the counter where a young man and woman stand behind the till, watching a video on one of their phones. The man notices him approaching first and nudges the woman.

“Good afternoon, sir. What can I get for you today?”

He orders Connor’s drink along with a black coffee for himself. He’s hungry but doesn’t feel like getting food when he’d just feel self-conscious about eating around a group of people who can’t. The coffee will tide him over, and he can always pick up something on the way back to the precinct. He pays for the drinks and lingers at the till while the man – who he thinks _might_ be an android, but it’s difficult to tell these days – prepares the order. Hank looks around, taking in the décor and the general misfits-vibe that he’s getting from the place. There’s an obscure-looking piece of art on the wall to the right of the till, a black canvas with coloured circles spread across intermittently across it’s surface. In the bottom right corner it says, in perfect CyberLife Sans ‘We are not your machines’.

Hank blinks. He takes a step forward to get a closer look, intrigued by how all the circles are the exact same size. When he gets close enough he realizes that the circles are actually LEDs, coloured and painted and stuck to the wall.

“We don’t know who started it, but one person glued theirs up and others just followed.” The woman is leaning on the counter, head propped up on her hand as she watches Hank. “We put the paints down to help everyone make theirs different. Show that we’re not all the same, y’know?”

“Some people like to come back and see how big it’s grown since they added theirs,” the man says. “It’s tripled in size since I stuck mine up there.”

Hank looks between them, then back at the wall. “Still know which one was yours?”

The woman comes around the counter and points up at an LED about halfway up the wall, painted neon pink with a blue star in the middle of it. “That one’s mine, and this one,” she points to one that painted dark grey and almost blends in with the background, “that’s Keith’s.” She gestures with a thumb over her shoulder at the man. “I hate pink. But I chose it because I could.”

“Yeah. Make a statement.”

“Exactly.” She holds regards Hank curiously. “We don’t get many human customers in here.”

“Yeah. We have a ‘thing’ about going down alleyways.”

“You’re here with Connor, though,” she gestures back at the table, where the group are chatting quietly amongst themselves. Connor appears to have been drawn in to conversation with Hannah and Kelly, his LED swirling blue as he talks. “You know them all?”

Hank shrugs. “Just Connor. Kinda just meeting the rest of them properly today.” He holds his hand out to her, “I’m Hank, by the way.”

She shakes. “Marley.” She squints then, looking closer at Hank’s face. “You look familiar.”

Keith is speaking before Hank has a chance to say anything: “He’s that hotshot Lieutenant that Connor doesn’t shut up about.”

“Oh! The one he works with! You guys are on the news a lot,” Marley says brightly. “Connor’s always talking about you.”

“So I’m hearing,” Hank says, flustered. It’s flattering though, that Connor talks about him to his friends (and the baristas, too, apparently). Hank wonders if he does the same about Connor.

“It’s very cute,” Marley continues, “he lights up whenever someone mentions your name. He’s pretty lucky too, to have a human in his life that cares about him so much.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He’s arranging the drinks on a tray. “Not all who wander in here are friendly towards us.”

Hank steps forwards to pick up the tray. “Thanks.” He pauses, sets the tray down and digs around in his pant pockets for a second before drawing out a business card with his contact details on them. He passes it to Keith who blinks at him in surprise. “If anyone gives you too much trouble you can call. I ain’t got much patience for bigotry these days.”

Keith takes the card and scans over the information on it. He smiles gratefully at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Please, call me Hank.”

“Well then – thank you Hank.”

Marley nods along in agreement before being summoned in to the kitchen behind the counter. Hank collects the tray, drops a tip in to the tip jar on his way passed and makes his way back to the group. Connor smiles as Hank places his drink in front of him, and rests his hand Hank’s knee once he’s sitting down again, squeezing gently.

“Kelly was just telling me about the volunteer work that she’s doing at Jericho,” Connor says in a bid to bring him in to the conversation. “They’re working closely with the city council to help more androids find work while also attempting to tackle the human unemployment rate, and find some balance between them.”

“Huh.” Hank raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Can’t imagine that’s been easy, what with all the androids that woke up and suddenly need to earn a living.”

Kelly leans forward in her seat, eyes alight with excitement. “It’s actually not as bad as we’d initially expected,” Kelly says. Hannah is holding her hand, looking at her girlfriend with overwhelming fondness. “34% of androids don’t want to remain in Detroit, for various reasons, so we’ve been working on helping them relocate to other states where they can start a new life.” She’s very passionate about her work, Hank can tell. “The rate of unemployment for humans is significantly worse for Detroit than any other states, mainly due to CyberLife focusing their sales on the city instead of the wider world. We can feasibly settle androids somewhere else where they won’t face as much discrimination as they would here. It also gives humans a chance to pick up the jobs that the androids have left behind.”

Hank frowns. “Wouldn’t they have done that already, after the revolution happened?”

“Surprisingly? No. A lot of the service and maintenance jobs have still been left vacant.”

“Typical,” Hank mutters. “They’ll sit around and complain that androids took their jobs, but won’t actually get off their asses when the jobs open up.”

 Kelly nods in agreement. “We’re trying to work on an equality ruling where an employer has have a minimum percentage of staff be androids and humans. We haven’t gotten much traction so far, and the state is dragging their heels in implementing any sort of rule. So far, we’ve just been working directly with the employers to try and make some headway.”

“Sounds like rough work. How about you?” he asks Hannah.

“I’ve been working with a non-profit charity that provides shelter to those who have been the victims of domestic abuse and assault,” Hannah says, softly. “It’s challenging – sometimes the abusers find us, and try to intervene – but I feel like this is what I’m supposed to do. I’m very motivated towards this. It’s not surprising, considering…”

Considering being used at The Eden Club, she doesn’t need to say.

“Well.. it sounds like difficult work,” Hank says, after a moment. “If anyone gets violent, you can always call us.”

Hannah smiles. “I know. Connor has already offered, but it’s encouraging to know we have you on our side too. We really do appreciate it.”

“Kelly and Hannah have both wanted to meet you again,” Connor says, leaning in to Hank with a smile. “In better circumstances, particularly.”

“Connor has spent a lot of time talking you up,” Kelly says teasingly. “We’ve been curious.”

Hannah adds, “Not that you didn’t make a great impression the first time.”

It startles a laugh out of Hank, and Hannah grins. Kelly elbows her in exasperation, but she can’t hide her lips twitching up. Josh turns to them then, asking the girls a question that makes them laugh but Hank isn’t paying attention, too focused on the sweet look Connor is giving him now. It makes Hank flush in embarrassment. “What?” he asks gruffly.

“Nothing,” Connor says, dopey smile making an appearance. “Just – thank you. For coming out today.” He leans up and places a chaste kiss on Hank’s cheek. It barely lasts a second but it makes Hank warm from the inside out. Connor keeps his head leaned in close and says quietly, “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Hank says just as softly. “Anything for you sweetheart.”

Connor settles back again, content, and Hank decides ‘fuck it’ and takes hold of the hand that Connor has on Hank’s knee. He twines their fingers together and Connor’s smile is so bright that it rivals the sun. He turns back to the conversation, taking his coffee cup with his free hand and taking a sip. He catches North watching him from the corner of his eye and realises that she’s not glaring at him as intensively anymore.   _Well … that’s progress,_ Hank thinks.

*~*

In the end, lunch turns out to be pretty enjoyable. Hank doesn’t know why he’s so shocked, he should know by now to trust Connor’s judgement but when it comes to time for him and Connor to leave, he’s surprised to realise he’s actually had a good time. Everyone made efforts to include him in the conversation (barring North, who didn’t really say much of anything) and when they ask him to join them next time, Hank finds himself agreeing.

Connor barely stops smiling the entire time, a happy glow of content settling around him like a cloud. Hank helps him in to his coat, prompting knowing looks amongst the others as they get ready to leave.

“Thanks guys,” Hank says, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything. “It’s been good.”

“Thank you for joining us,” Markus says, standing to shake Hank’s hand. “Please, feel free to come by Jericho anytime. And if you need any assistance, please don’t hesitate to call.”

“Yeah, same to you.”

Connor says his goodbyes too, getting a kiss on the cheek from Kelly and Hannah before nodding to Hank that he’s ready to go. Hank waves to the baristas on his way out too, and then they’re back in the mild spring weather of Detroit. They walked here, so now they start back towards the precinct, taking a shortcut through the park.

“So maybe that wasn’t as horrible as I’d expected,” Hank admits when they’re almost back at work.

“I told you they weren’t that bad. Even North was starting to warm up towards you.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re right and I’m wrong. What else is new.”

Connor laughs, the sound echoing prettily in the lobby of the DPD. They make for the elevator, and Hank presses the button for the second floor. The doors have barely closed behind them when Connor is suddenly stepping in to his space. He takes hold of Hank’s coat and tugs him down, tilting his face up to kiss Hank square on the lips. It’s soft and gentle, only lasting a few seconds before Connor is pulling away, leaving Hank dazed. “What was that for?”

“Just for being you,” Connor says. He smoothes the fabric of Hank’s coat, stepping back when the elevator announces their floor. The doors open and Connor throws a wink at him, straightening his tie and walking out in to the precinct. Hank watches him go, jaw hanging open slightly before he gathers himself, squeezing his way out before the doors close on him and following his partner out.

He was completely gone on Connor, but frankly he couldn't care less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, you're all the best *blows kisses*
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is appreciated.


	7. Sidetracked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all errors are mine, because I'm drunk.
> 
> This one probably takes place a few months after the end of the game.

Connor, to Hank’s immense confusion, actually enjoys going grocery shopping. He goes at least once a week to stock up on vegetables, fruit, milk and other staples in his attempt to get Hank to eat healthier – it _is_ working, as far as Connor is concerned, the Lieutenant only opting for takeaway when there was ‘nothing in the fridge’, so Connor made a point of always making sure there was some meal ready to be reheated at a moment’s notice. All prepared by Connor, of course.

So Connor takes his time on a sunny Tuesday afternoon on one of their days off to walk to the nearest organic supermarket and purchase the necessities for the next week.  It’s a 23 minute journey each way and though Hank always suggests that he take a cab, Connor really does prefer to walk, unless the rain is particularly heavy.

He’s exiting the store, purchases held securely in one of the many reusable bags that Hank has sequestered away in the third draw down in the kitchen (when Connor had asked Hank why he had so many bags, considering that they were meant to be reusable, Hank had shrugged and claimed it was a ‘human thing’, so Connor just added it to his every growing list of human peculiarities and carried on). Connor sends Hank a text to let him know that he’s on this way back and starts the short walk home.

He takes his usual route back, passing other small shops and built-up council flats. He’s walking by an alley when his optical scanners pick up on a movement in his peripheral and Connor pauses, blinking and taking in the sight. There’s a man crouched on his hands and knees looking under one of the dumpsters lined up against the wall, his hand reaching underneath for something. He’s talking quietly, and while Connor can’t run a facial recognition scan on him he is certainly able to identify the familiar voice.

Connor takes a few steps in to the alley, unnoticed by the man. “Detective Reed?”

A clang echoes out followed by some very colourful cursing. Reed shuffles back slightly and raises up to kneel, and rubs his head where he banged it against the dumpster. He throws a glare in Connor’s direction, “The fuck are you playing at?”

“My apologies,” Connor says, pushing as much sincerity in to his voice as possible, “I didn’t realise it would startle you that bad.”

“You sneak up on someone and don’t expect them to be startled,” Reed grumbles to himself. “CyberLife fucked up with you, didn’t they.”

“I didn’t sneak -” Connor gives up on that train of thought, not wanting to get in to an argument with the man. “I was curious about what you were doing on your hands and knees in a dirty alley.”

Reed’s glare only intensifies and he growls out a “None of your fucking business!” at the same time that there’s a pitiful _mrrouww_ from under the dumpster. Connor tilts his head curiously, LED blinking. “There’s a cat under there.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Reed huffs and goes back to crouching low enough to see underneath again. Connor hesitates before deciding to move closer to get a better look. He kneels down next to Reed and while the man sends an annoyed look in his direction he doesn’t tell him to get lost either. But Reed does say: “Leave your bag further away, it’ll scare her.”

Connor complies and crouches down to the same level as Reed to get a look as well. Right at the back, pressed back against the alley wall and ears pressed flat against her head is a very distressed Maine Coon. Her brown tabby coat is dirty from crawling underneath the bins, and she hisses when she sees Connor peering in at her as well. Connor runs a scan on her, and she comes back with age and health details, along with a microchip which he checks for owner information. He makes a surprised noise. “She’s yours?” he asks Reed.

“Yeah, dipshit. Why else would I be out here?”

Connor adds ‘cat person’ to his list of known traits about Reed. He is surprised that he had never picked up on it before, but then again Connor doesn’t spend as much time analysing Reed as he has with Hank. Reed goes back to soft-talking to the cat in attempts to coax her out. “What happened?”

“Asshole got out when I was trying to open the door. And there’s guys doing construction work in the hallways so she got spooked and ran down the stairs.” Reed takes something from his pocket and reaches back underneath the dumpster. Connor sees that he’s trying to tempt her out with treats. “Some idiot left the main door open and she got out.”

“What’s her name?”

“What’s it matter to you?” Reed bites out. Connor doesn’t reply, and eventually Reed sighs. “She’s called Nymeria.”

Connor smiles. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Whatever,” Reed says. He shakes his hand of treats again by Nymeria just growls, her hackles rising. Reed sits up and leans back on his heels with a sigh. “Goddamn it. Why the fuck won’t she move.”

“She’s clearly an indoor cat, judging by her fear of the outdoors,” Connor begins, sitting up as well. “She is likely unsettled to the point of not feeling safe enough to leave the temporary shelter she has found, despite how familiar you may be.”

“Yeah genius, I figured.”

“Maybe if you were to get something familiar from your home she would be more amenable to coming out,” Connor suggests, checking through various online articles about coaxing out a scared cat. “It seems to have a positive success rate.”

Reed throws him a dirty look. “I’m not leaving her here,” he says, as if he’s offended by the very thought.

“I was going to suggest that I go to your apartment and fetch the items instead.” Connor watches Reed consider the offer, clearly displeased by the idea of Connor entering his living space but also not seeing another solution. “I will be quick.”

Reed bites his lip. He makes a frustrated noise and eventually digs his keys out of his pocket. “ _Fine_ ,” he says. He tosses the keys to Connor who catches them one-handed. Reed raises his finger and points at Connor’s chest. “But if I find that you’ve poked around my apartment or moved shit, I will seriously turn you in to a fancy ass toaster. You got it?”

“Yes, Detective,” Connor says, standing. He brushes his knees of the dirt that has accumulated there. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yeah. That big apartment complex around the corner? I’m in there. 6th floor, room 12. Don’t get lost, plastic.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Reed gives Connor a short list of the items that he should pick up and where they are located and then Connor is on his way. He leaves his shopping bag with Reed and then he’s jogging to the high rise flats where Reed says that he leaves. It doesn’t take him more than five minutes to reach the building, and he may or may not hack the elevator to take him directly to the 6th floor and ignore all the other stops. Reed’s door is located six doors to the left and Connor unlocks it and lets himself in, carefully avoiding the shopping bag that’s been dropped unceremoniously on the floor, spilling apples and oranges in to the room.

He can’t stop himself from taking a curious scan around the room, noting the meticulous neatness of the flat – a sharp contrast to when he entered Hank’s house for the first time. Reed’s front door leads in to a joint living/kitchen area, with a breakfast bare separating the space. There are dishes drying in a rack next to the sink and it looks like the floor has recently been swept. He is … surprised by the tidiness of the room, considering the mess of empty coffee cups and empty wrappers that litter his desk as work. Connor would never have assumed the man held such different standards for his home. There’s cat hair on the floor and the couches (and a few strands on top of the coffee table) but less than he would have expected from a long-haired breed).

Connor quickly finds the blanket and food bowls that Reed had asked him to bring, and located the cupboard in the kitchen that contains the cat food (there are little scratch marks on the cupboard door that make Connor smile). He picks up a pouch of wet food and is about to close the door when he notices little cartons of ‘cat milk’. He checks it’s nutrient contents and, satisfied that it doesn’t contain lactose, he takes one of the cartons.

He scoops the wayward fruits on the floor back in to the shopping bag and leaves them on the kitchen counter before leaving the flat, locking the door on his way out. He nods to one of Reed’s neighbours and is thankful when they don’t question why he’s leaving the detective’s home with his keys and takes the elevator back down again.

Reed is still in the same position when he gets back to the alley, and he looks up at Connor when he jogs towards him. “Gimme the blanket,” he says, taking it from Connor’s arms. “Put some food in her bowl.”

Connor sets about his task, squeezing the wet food out while Gavin lays the blanket in front of the dumpster. He tries not to listen but he can’t not hear Reed baby-taking to his cat, but he does try to hide the grin that threatens to break out.

“Come on baby girl, you can come out,” he coos, reaching his hand back under. “I’ll get you home and you’ll never have to see the outside world again. Except for visits to the vet. I promise.”

Connor pours some milk out as well since the bowl has a divider in the middle of it. He passes it over to Reed who tells him “Good thinking” when he sees the milk, and he places the bowl on the blanket before shuffling back to sit and lean against the opposite wall. Connor debates with himself for second before he joins Reed, leaving a couple of feet between them. “The hell are you doing?” Reed asks incredulously.

“You cannot carry your cat and all of the items back to the apartment by yourself,” Connor reasons. He crosses his legs and settles against the wall. “I will wait with you and accompany you back.” He expects Reed to argue, or to at least throw a few insults at him but instead Reed huffs and crosses his arms across his chest.

“Suit yourself,” he says, sniffing.

Connor sends a text to Hank to let him know that he’s going to be delayed, possible by a few hours. He’s suddenly grateful that he didn’t buy anything that risks going off without refrigeration. He gets an alert after a few minutes notifying him he has a reply from Hank:

_‘Did your legs stop working or something? Should I come get you?’_

‘No,’ Connor replies. ‘I came across Detective Reed trying to coax his cat out from under a dumpster and have offered to stay with him to help escort her back home.’

_‘Is that a bad attempt at a joke?’_

Connor sends Hank an image of the surly detective sitting next him on the alley ground

 _‘…okay, wasn’t expecting that,’_  Hank types. _‘You really going to stick around there?’_

‘I am.’

_‘Have fun then, I guess. Don’t let him try any funny stuff.’_

Connor smiles at the words. Hank is well aware that Connor can hold his own against the detective ever since Reed was found unconscious on the archive room floor, but he appreciates the concern nonetheless. ‘Tell Sumo I’ll be home soon.’

“What the hell are you smiling about?”

“I am messaging Hank, to let him know I will be back later than expected.”

“God, are you two actually attached at the hip or something?” Reed shuffles about, trying to get comfortable on the concrete. It’s a pointless effort, and eventually he slumps back against the wall. “Don’t you have a life that doesn’t revolve around Anderson?”

“Hank invited me to stay with him after the demonstration,” Connor explains tersely. “It is only natural that I spend the majority of my time with him.”

“Alright, jeez, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“I do not wear -” Connor finds himself stopping mid-sentence for the second time that day, preferring not to get in to a verbal sparring match with the detective at this moment. Reed snorts. “You are doing this to annoy me.”

“Heh,” Reed chuckles, “maybe CyberLife didn’t waste billions of dollars on you after all.”

“Other people make small talk in situations such as this,” Connor says, trying not to sound petulant.

“Sounds boring, if you ask me.”

Connor can’t think of anything to say to that, so he settles back against the wall as well. He might just have to end up ignoring Reed for the most part until his cat decides to crawl out from under the bins. It could take a while, so Connor removes his coin from his pocket (Hank always calls it his ‘lucky’ coin) and starts playing with it. It’s nice, that he can choose to do this of his own volation and not part of any maintenance or idle animations, so he dismisses the prompt to start running calibrations in favour of watching the coin roll across his knuckles, finding that the motion relaxes him slightly.

Reed watches him from the corner of his eye for a few minutes before huffing and trying to readjust his position. He takes his phone out and opens up a social media app to occupy his time, tapping away at the screen as he writes a message. He startles Connor when he speaks up almost 5 minutes later. “Never heard you call him by his name before.”

Connor frowns. “I’m sorry?”

“Anderson,” Reed clarifies. He doesn’t look up from his phone. “Think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call him anything other than ‘Lieutenant’.”

Huh. Maybe Reed _was_ trying to engage in small talk. This could be could be an opportunity to strengthen the tentative relationship that he has with the man. “He insisted that I not call him ‘Lieutenant’ when we are at home,” Connor explains. “I admit it took some getting used to.”

“Can’t you just change the command in your brain, like ‘find and replace’?”

“It is not that simple for me. I was designed to integrate with humans in the workplace: beyond the social programming that was solely installed to facilitate better working relationships, I have no other protocols for navigating the nuances of society. Deviating from formalities has proven … difficult.”

“Hmm.” Reed continues to stare at his phone. “Is that why you always call me ‘Detective Reed’?”

“In part.” Connor waits until Reed has looked up from his phone. “I mostly do it to irritate you.”

Reed scoffs. “Asshole,” he says, but there’s no heat behind the word. Connor counts it as a success. “Was knocking me out part of your protocols, too?”

“No. No, that was purely for me.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Reed sighs and he is definitely less upset than Connor had been expecting. “I swear to God though, if you ever deck me again I’ll rip your fucking ears off.”

It is a strange threat, but Connor nodded nonetheless. “Noted.” He takes a moment to study the detective, permitting himself to run a scan. Reed’s clothes are rumpled, and Connor notes that he is in the same outfit that he was wearing yesterday when Hank and Connor left the precinct. There are dark circles starting to form under his eyes and he can tell from the way that Reed is sitting that he’s experiencing some discomfort around his shoulders, and his eyes are half-lidded, like he’s trying to stay awake. Connor frowns. “Were you at the station all night?” he asks.

Reed gives him a half-shrug. “I had work to do.”

“It couldn’t be done during your allocated shift?” Connor asks curiously. He doesn’t want to break this almost-peace that has developed between them and he hopes his tone doesn’t imply that he’s judging him. Thankfully, Reed is either too tired or doesn’t seem to care.

“I got close to a breakthrough,” Reed explains. It’s strange, how compliant he is when he’s tired. “Figured a few extra hours wouldn’t hurt while I worked through it. Didn’t realise what time it was until Miller arrived for the day shift, and Fowler kicked me out this afternoon when he realised I’d been there all night.”

“Did you solve the case?”

“I think so. There’s a few more leads to follow through on but I’m pretty sure I’ve got it.”

Connor’s learning so much about the surly detective. He adds ‘workaholic’ to his list of traits. “I’m glad that you had a productive evening.”

Reed sniffs. “If you can call it that.”

“It shows a perseverance that is admired in your field of work. It does you credit.”

Reed doesn’t reply and he looks away, but Connor can see the flush that rises to his cheeks. “Shut up,” he mumbles.

Connor hides a smile. He sees Nymeria crawling slowly towards the blanket, and knows that they shouldn’t be here for much longer. “I know you won’t accept it, but – I don’t have much to do throughout the night while Hank sleeps. If you ever need any assistance, then I would be happy to help.”

Reed looks at him with suspicion, but he doesn’t say anything as he notices his cat poking her head out from under the dumpster to sniff curiously at the bowls. They watch quietly as she skulks out and investigates the food, ears flicking around to track the odd noises of the street outside the alley. She takes a few hesitant laps from the milk before properly tucking in, but her eyes are ever-watchful of her surroundings.

Reed starts to move slowly and slips his jacket off from his shoulders. Nymeria looks up at him and flicks her tail before returning to her meal. Reed continues to take off his jacket and approaches her slowly, with his jacket held tightly in one hand.

“Hey girl,” he murmurs quietly, “hey little buddy. You’re gonna be alright, I’m gonna get you home in no time. You’ll get back to your bed and jumping on the counters when you think I’m not looking.”

Nymeria’s tail continues to flick while Reed moves, but she doesn’t tense up and she doesn’t run. When Reed is close enough, he bends down and chances a scratch behind her ear. She makes a _‘prrrup’_ sound but otherwise doesn’t react. “That’s it,” Reed coos, and he uses both hands to lower his coat around her. “You’ll forget about this in no time.”

She looks up just as Reed drops the jacket over her, and he quickly arranges it so that she’s safely tucked away inside but is unable to escape. Reed manoeuvres the wriggling bundle in to his arms and makes sure there’s a gap in the fabric for her to get some air but not enough for her to slip through. “Fucking hell, finally,” Reed sighs, his head dropping down in exhaustion. “Alright. Let’s get her home. Hey plastic, you still have my keys?” Connor nods. “Okay then. Can you grab her shit and then we’ll get out of here.”

Connor collects their belongings and follows Reed back to his apartment. They draw some strange looks, especially with Nymeria crying in confusion from the confines of Reed’s jacket, but eventually they make it back safely. Connor goes ahead of Reed once they’re out of the elevator and unlocks the apartment door. He closes it behind them and watches as Reed carefully sets the bundle of fabric on the couch, observing as Reed gently unwraps his jacket and reveals the fluffy cat in all of her glory. Nymeria takes a startled look around the apartment, gives Reed a disgruntled hiss and jumps off the couch. She saunters out of the room in the direction of what Connor assumes is the bedroom.

“You’re welcome,” Reed shouts after her with a roll of his eyes. Then, Reed sighs, and it’s like all the pent-up exhaustion catches up with him in one go and he slouches tiredly. “Fuck, I’m beat.”

Connor places the food bowl and blanket back where he’d found them, his bag from his earlier shopping trip hanging securely against his wrist. He sets the keys on the counter between the kitchen and the living area and says, “I’m glad you were able to get Nymeria home safely. I’ll leave you to rest now, and will see you on your next shift at the precinct.” He means to turn and leave the detective to it, but he’s just reaching for the door when he hears the man speak. Reed mumbles, almost too quietly to hear, but Connor picks it up anyways.

“Hey. I guess … thanks. For, y’know.”

He knows how much it must have pained Reed to say that, so Connor looks back over his shoulder with a polite smile. “You’re welcome, Detective Reed. Rest well.” He lets himself out of the apartment and closes the door behind him.

It feels like it’s been a productive day, Connor thinks as he exits the apartment complex. He sends a message to Hank to let him know he’s on his way home for real this time, and reflects on the additional information that he has gleaned from his time with Detective Gavin Reed and on the his attitude towards Connor as they sat in the alleyway.

Perhaps, Connor thinks with a smile, there is still a chance for the two of them to become friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting longer. I hope you enjoyed this interlude with Connor! I've not had much time to write recently with uni work and the big bang, but hopefully I'm back on track and will be able to start posting some of my other D:BH works.
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is appreciated! Love you all, you deviant souls <3


	8. Outcast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey whassup, it's me, ya gurl, SarcasticIrishCat, crawling out of a 4-month break from writing, asking for your forgiveness.
> 
> I didn't have any time to write recently with uni coursework taking up much of my life. BUT the semester is almost over, and that means 3 months of writing coming up (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> I am working on a DBH Firewatch AU which I've had planned for almost ten months now and even though it's only gonna be 4 chapters long it's still a big effort for me to actually sit down and type. I probably won't post that one until it's 100% complete, so watch this space!
> 
> Oh, and enjoy this chapter! I'm guessing it takes place around January/February of 2039 :D

The first time Hank notices it, they’re waiting in line for coffee before heading to the precinct.

Connor stands patiently next to him: hands clasped behind his back, perfectly put together like he has been every day since Hank’s known him. He’s basically wearing the same clothes save for the CyberLife jacket which they had set alight in Hank’s back yard in some sort of weird ritual. Connor had smiled, full and bright, and laughed as they watched it go up in flames and only laughed harder when one of Hank’s neighbours threatened to call the police, only for Hank to shout back “We _are_ the police, you fuck!”

He’s his own person now, but he still likes to follow Hank around as he figures this whole ‘being alive’ shit out and well … it’s been a long time since someone has wanted to actually spend time in Hank’s presence and fuck, he likes Connor. He’s good company.

Connor’s scanning the menu above the counters as if they don’t come here several times a week. Hank can’t see from this side but he reckons his LED is spinning amber. He’s getting better at reading Connor, he thinks. “What are you planning on purchasing today?” Connor asks curiously.

Hank shrugs. “Dunno. Something with six shots of espresso, probably.”

Connor throws him a startled look and Hank can see he was right about the LED. He blinks at Hank, mouth hanging open slightly. “Lieutenant, I strongly advise against consuming a beverage with that much caffeine in it. Excessive amounts caffeine can have adverse side effects on your blood pressure, not mention it increases the likelihood of anxiety and -” Connor stops when Hank snorts and he quickly covers his mouth to hide his grin. Connor’s LED circle amber again before flickering back to blue. “You are teasing me,” he realises.

“Sorry, Connor.” Hank nudges him with his shoulder, chuckling. “Nah, of course I wouldn’t order something like that. I’m thinking maybe just a black coffee – gotta wake myself up somehow.”

“Perhaps if you had retired to bed when I suggested you wouldn’t have missed out on any sleep.”

“And miss you watching Star Wars for the first time? Not a chance.”

The next customer is called out and Hank steps forward to place his order for his plain old black bean juice. It’s a pretty quick order to fill and Hank’s handed his drink in a takeaway cup within a few minutes. He checks the lid to make sure it’s secure, thanks the barista and turns away from the counter to look for Connor.

The android had moved to the side while Hank got his coffee and he’s standing by the little table of milk and sugar packets just left of counter. He’s facing Hank’s direction but his eyes are trained intently on the floor in front of him and doesn’t notice Hank approaching until he’s level with him. “You ready to go, Con?” Hank asks, trying to flick the little loose bit of plastic off the cup’s lid to let the steam out. He starts blowing in to the opening to help it cool down and almost chokes when Connor looks up and Hank sees that his LED is pulsing red.

“Yes, Lieutenant, I am ready to leave this establishment,” Connor says, and if Hank hadn’t been spending every waking moment in Connor’s company he wouldn’t have noticed the slightly more mechanical intonation that Connor only uses when he’s stressed or upset by something – not that his LED wouldn’t be a massive giveaway.

Hank frowns, looks up at the LED which continues to spin red. “You okay there?”

“Of course, Lieutenant.” Connor’s voice is still strange, and his face is creepily blank. “We should go so that we are not late for our shift.” He turns on his heel and starts walking towards the café door. Hank just shakes his head and follows after him. It’s not until he reaches the door himself that he hears a snippet of conversation from a table to his right that catches his attention.

 “…How can we know that he even deviated? I guess it just doesn’t really make me feel safe to see him here.”

He glances over and sees two androids, employees of the café, cleaning a couple of tables. They don’t pay him any attention and move away, carrying trays of dirty dishes back behind the counter.

Hank frowns – did he hear that right? Had they been talking about his Connor? He wants to question his partner on it but then moment he steps outside the cafe his phone rings and next thing he and Connor are being summoned to check out a homicide that’s just been reported on the west side of town, and the conversation slips his mind…

*~*

…Until the next day.

Hank is crouched down next to the dead body of an android, shoes covered in protective plastic to keep the crime scene undisturbed. It’s a WR400, designation Cindy. Half of her face is exposed circuitry, and her midriff has been ripped open and scavenged for parts. Hank sighs. “Goddamn fucking poachers is what they are,” he tells Connor as he pushes himself upright. “You picking up on any fingerprints?”

“Negative,” Connor says. His LED is yellow as he catalogues the room. There’s a few humans from forensics milling about the room, along with some of the androids from the precinct staff to stop civilians from trying to enter the small apartment. “There is also an absence of any human element: stray hairs, skin cells, sweat … this was either done by a very capable criminal, or an android.”

“Why would an android go about killing one of their own?”

Connor does this little one-shoulder shrug, something that he’s been trying out recently. “Parts are hard to source while CyberLife is being dissolved. The factories are temporarily closed. People are getting desperate.”

“It’s been two months. You’d think Markus would have something sorted out by now.”

“CyberLife are attempting to obtain permission to continue manufacturing androids for human use again.” Connor gets a little crease between his eyes when he frowns, Hank notices. It’s kinda adorable, really. “They claim to have erased the “software” that caused deviancy. Markus is trying hard to make sure they do not succeed.”

“So opening the factories has fallen to the back-burner.” Hank nods. “Makes sense. Kinda wish the factories were still up and running through. It would stop things like this happening.”

They look down at Cindy. Her lifeless eyes stare passed them and into to the kitchen.

“Come on,” Hank pats Connor’s shoulder, “let’s get the coroner in: we’ll head down to the precinct and write it up.”

Connor turns follow him, his LED a calming blue once more. “If it’s alright you, I would like to bring these findings to the Captain. This is the fourth account of scavenging in the last three weeks and until the factories are opened again we will likely see more: it might be prudent to issue a warning to the android population and advise them to be cautious.”

“You don’t need my permission, Connor. If you think that’s what’s needed, then you do it.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t mention it, Assistant Detective.”

Connor’s goofy little smile makes an appearance, but it’s completely gone a second later. His LED spins yellow all of a sudden and then starts pulsing red.

Hank is alarmed at the sudden change in mood. “Connor?” he asks. When he doesn’t get a response, he tries again: “Hey, you okay?”

“Yes Lieutenant,” Connor replies, and he’s back to that strange almost-robotic tone that he’d had in the café yesterday, when he’d heard those two androids talking about him. Hank looks around the room, trying to see if he can pinpoint anyone badmouthing his friend. The forensics guys were barely paying any attention to them, and the androids were standing quietly, observing.

Hank sighs. “Come on, buddy, let’s get out of here.”

Connor only nods and leads the way out of the small apartment. When they pass the threshold, Connor tenses minutely and Hank catches the LED of the android standing guard at the door. It spins yellow when Connor approaches, and the android watches him warily as they pass by.

Hank waits until they’re back inside his car before saying anything about it. “Did that android say something to you?”

Connor looks at him, surprised. He blinks a few times before saying, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit,” Hank says, frowning, but it’s lacking heat. He’s getting concerned. “I know you better than you think, Connor. And I heard those two androids talking about you yesterday. So tell me – what’s going on?”

Connor seems to struggle with finding the right words for a moment. “I – I believe that androids are growing uncomfortable with my presence on the police force. They are saying that I am not suitable for the job, due to my previous role as CyberLife’s ‘bloodhound’.”

“CyberLife’s _what?_ ”

“Bloodhound. That is what they have designated me as.”

“Jesus, that’s insane.” Hank rubs a hand over his eyes. “Sure, you’re good at tracking people down, but you’ve never killed another android since I’ve known you.”

“But I’m not the first Connor,” he replies. “There were 50 other designations before me, some of which were active field agents before CyberLife activated this unit.” Connor’s LED starts flickering amber again, and Hank can tell he’s becoming distressed. “I do not have access to the memories of my previous selves so I cannot say for certain what acts those models performed. It is entirely possible that I _have_ killed and the memories were erased.”

“None of those other androids were _you_ , Connor,” Hank argues. He puts a hand on Connor’s shoulder and squeezes. “If you can’t remember anything about 50 other lives that you may or may not have lived, doesn’t that mean that CyberLife gave you a clean slate to work off of? If you really had been a killer, wouldn’t some of that shit have carried over to you?”

Connor frowns. “I held Markus at gunpoint on Jericho.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t even gonna shoot him.”

“I chased Kara and Alice across a busy road with the intent to capture them.”

“And you let them go. Also – _never do that again_.”

Connor is so close to pouting that Hank almost laughs. “I was directly responsible for murder of the deviant, Daniel, on my first assignment.”

“He was holding a little kid at gunpoint.”

“ _Lieutenant-_ ”

Hank gently cuffs him up he back of his head. “I don’t want to hear it, Connor. You’re the reason the revolution succeeded, you know? They couldn’t have pulled it off without you, and I bet the number of androids who recognise that outweigh the ones who don’t. You’re a goddamn hero, Connor. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Connor looks up at Hank, and Hank watches as his LED spins amber a few more times before it goes back to blue, and Hank relaxes. “Thank you, Hank,” Connor says, and he smiles gratefully. “I’m glad that you’re my friend.”

Hank smiles back, and feels heat start to rise up the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Yeah. Right back at ya.” He clears his throat and turns on the engine. “Alright, let’s get back to the precinct and you can let Jeffrey know how much of a shitstorm we should expect.”

*~*

Hank hopes that will be that last of it. Connor certainly seems to be in better spirits about it all, and he either doesn’t hear any more negative comments about his past actions or he just ignores the ones that he does hear. He seems more comfortable, and he’s invited to assist Markus and company on their negotiations about CyberLife’s business. Connor has to decline that one, his job at the DPD is too important to him, but he helps them out with research during the night when Hank is asleep.

Four weeks later, Markus wins his case and CyberLife is awarded to the androids. The factories are opened again and managed by a carefully selected committee, and thirium and spare parts are once again available to the androids. The android murders stop almost instantly and although Hank would have preferred to catch the person (or people) who carried out the killings, they haven’t been able to find any evidence to lead them to a suspect. The victims of the scavenging were recluses and didn’t have any close friends. They’ll keep the case open anyway, in case anything new turns up.

Markus decides to hold an event at one of new night clubs that caters to both humans and androids, in celebration of their win over CyberLife. Connor is reluctant but Hank insists that they attend so that Connor can get his face out there among his own people and show that he isn’t something to be feared. He takes a lot of cajoling but Connor eventually agrees.

Inside, the club is packed with androids, but Hank can see a few humans dotted around as well. The music is loud and the lights resemble something out of a disco back from Hank’s school days, but everyone looks happy and relaxed. The bar is even selling Thirinol – a new thirium-based drink that is meant to simulate the feeling of lightness and giddiness that alcohol would in humans. Everyone is excited and hopeful over the transfer of CyberLife ownership and it shows in the happy faces and dancing androids in the room.

It goes pretty well for the most part: Connor earns himself a few side-glances from a handful of wary androids but Connor doesn’t appear to notice and eventually he starts to enjoy himself and gets involved in the conversation that Markus and his friends are having. Hank relaxes and leans back in to his chair, light beer in hand, and just enjoys the atmosphere. He's never really had a chance to speak to Markus - not that he's got much of a chance in a cloud with bass this loud - but it's nice to see Connor socialise.

They stay for a couple of hours before Connor suggest that they take their leave. Hank agrees, only because it's going on midnight and they both have to be at work tomorrow. They’re intercepted as they’re leaving the club by an android taller than Connor – a PJ500 if Hank is correct – and he puts himself in their path. Hank suspects he might have had a little too much Thirinol by the way he sways on the spot. The PJ500 points at Connor and says with a sneer, “You don’t belong here. This is supposed to be a safe place and you – you are not safe.”

Connor blinks up at the android, confusion written in his eyes. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he says quietly.

“You _hunted_ us,” the PJ500 continues. He’s beginning to draw the attention of the people stand around them, and Hank grows uneasy. The PJ500 takes a step forward. “You don’t deserve a place among us here. How do we know you’re not still working for them?”

Connor, to his credit, stands his ground. “My connection to the CyberLife serves was cut off at the end of the revolution, just like yours. I’m no more a danger than you are.”

“But that’s not true, is it?” the PJ500 is too close to them now and Hank clenches his fist. “You could still turn on us all right now, like you did up on that stage. I saw you hold a _gun_ to Markus’ head! CyberLife still has their claws in you – you’ll never be anything more than their _bloodhound_ -!”

Hank’s had enough and is just stepping forwards to deal the android a blow that will probably do more damage to his human hand than to the PJ500’s face, but North appears out of nowhere between them and beats him to it. She lands an uppercut right below the android’s chin with a force that Hank swears he can feel reverberate in his own bones. The PJ500 staggers back in surprise and falls on his ass, staring up at North in shock.

North shakes out her hand like it was nothing and levels a gaze at the androids watching. “Anyone else have something they’d like to say?” she demands. Unsurprisingly, no one steps forward and everyone turns back to their conversation. The music starts up again (Hank hadn’t even noticed it had turned off) and the PJ500 is escorted out of the club by the bouncers.

North turns to face them, eyebrow raised. Hank grumbles and says, “I was gonna do that myself, y’know.”

“You’d have broken your whole hand, old man.” North rolls her eyes then turns to Connor, who’s still looking a little stunned about the whole thing. She reaches up and pats him twice on the cheek then turns and walks away. The androids part to make a path for her.

“She’s terrifying,” Hank says after a moment. “I like her.”

“I do too,” Connor says. He blinks and looks back at Hank. “That was … unpleasant. I wish you hadn’t seen that – hadn’t seen how my own kind think of me.”

“Don’t worry about that Connor,” Hank presses a hand to the small of Connor’s back and guides him out of the club, keeping an eye out for any other troublemakers. “He’s just one of the few, remember? Not everyone thinks like he does.”

“I’m finding that hard to believe at a time like this.”

“I know, partner. It’ll get easier, I swear.”

Connor lets himself be ushered outside, and he turns to Hank once they’re in the cool air. He claps Hank’s arm and says, “I’m glad that you don’t think like them, Hank. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Hank can feel his face flush from the sincerity in Connor’s voice and he’s suddenly aware that although Connor has turned to face him, Hank still has his hand on Connor’s back. They’re standing … very close. And Connor is still looking up at him with those big, brown eyes and Hank starts to get flustered (he’s over 50 years old – he shouldn’t be getting _flustered_ ).

He chickens out first, switching instead to drape his arm over Connor’s shoulder and leads them towards the nearest taxi rank. “I’m glad too, Con. Now come on, let’s get home to Sumo. He’s gonna need to cuddle with you for the rest of the night when he smells how sad you are.”

“I fail to see how that would be bad.”

“Nah, I didn’t think you would.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: Hank wakes the next morning and walks in to his living room to see Connor lying flat on his couch in sleep mode with 170 lbs of snoring Saint Bernard draped across him. It's so fucking adorable, so Hank snaps a picture which he eventually prints off and puts on his desk at work. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, constructive criticism is appreciated and I'll see you next time. 
> 
> Love you guys <3


	9. Lost & Found, Part 1/3

_REBOOTING SYSTEMS … 34%_

_…79%_

_…100% REBOOT COMPLETED_

_eRRor ! SYSTEM OFFLINE . CHECK Y/N_

**_Y_ **

_GPS TRACKING HAS BEEN DISABLED. PLEASE SEE YOUR NEAREST C_ _̷͙̘̾_ _y_ _̸̳̽͜_ _b_ _̸͊_ _̨e_ _̸͒_ _̣r_ _̸_ _̂_ _͓̫_ _L_ _̴͕̏_ _i_ _̵͕̮͑_ _f_ _̸̞̩̔͗_ _e_ _̸_ _̄_ _͚_ _STORE FOR REPAIRS._

Connor opens his eyes. His HUD flickers in front of him and he automatically scans his surroundings, looking for an indication of where he is. The room he is in is poorly lit, and the floor is filthy with dust and mud. Connor sits up, can feel the weight of the mud that has adhered itself to the back of his jacket and takes stock of the situation.

All of his limbs are functional. His HUD is not damaged despite the blow to the back of his head – they’d hit him right in the access port on his neck. Whatever software they had downloaded into him has already been broken down and deleted by his superior coding. He takes a second look at his GPS and notices that there is a wireless signal blocking his tracker from activating. A small annoyance, since he had installed the tracker to allow Hank to be able to locate him in events such as this, but the signal is weak and he will be able to stop it once he finds the source.

He pushes himself onto his feet and brushes off as much of the debris that he can while thinking of a way around the deadlock door that appears to be the only exit to the room.

There’s a scuffing noise from behind him and Connor turns around, expecting to see a mouse scurrying past, but instead there’s a small figure huddled in the corner, hiding in the dark. Connor adjusts his settings and brightens his HUD to get a better view.

It’s one of the YK models, a girl. She is sleeping restlessly and doesn’t appear to have been disturbed by Connor’s movements. Connor scans her, but he already knows what the results will tell him.

_Model: YK500-2033-781-36, Designation: Alice._

He’s found her. That at least eliminates one part of his dilemma.

*~*

_Three days earlier…_

Kara sits on the opposite side of the table in Briefing Room 3. Her hands are wrapped around a cup of thirium water, and she’s biting her lip as Connor studies her. Hank elbows him in the side, and gives him a look that suggests that he’s doing something considered socially unacceptable so Connor leans forward on the table and clears his throat. “What has brought you here today, Kara?”

Her eyes have been brimming with unshed tears since she arrived at the precinct, distraught, and the tears finally break free and roll down her cheeks. “Someone has taken my daughter.”

Hank is suddenly leaning forward as well, frowning. “You mean the little android? Alice?” Kara nods, and Hank curses.

“Where did it happen?” Connor asks, and he starts recording all of her responses.

They had been out shopping together, and Kara had turned away for barely a few seconds. When she had reached out for Alice’s hand, her little girl was just _not there_.

“No one saw anything,” she says, confused. “A shopping mall full of people and no one could say that they saw a little girl.”

Connor sends away a request to access the security footage at Twelve Oaks Mall. “Has anyone suspicious contacted you prior to this?”

“N-no.”

“Can you recall anyone following you, even just noticing something strange out of the corner of your eye?”

“I didn’t even hear anyone approach,” Kara says. Hank has rummaged through the drawers underneath the table and passes a box of tissues to her. “How can that happen? I’m programmed – I’m used to monitoring her at all times. How could someone have taken her without me noticing?”

“It is possible that someone interfered with your programming before they took her,” Connor explains.  Possibilities fly before him, but he pushes them aside to ask: “Would you permit me to interface with you?”

Kara hesitates to answer. She is no doubt cautious about letting Connor – the android that relentlessly chased her and her child across a busy highway – enter her mind. So Connor assures her, “I will not access any memories besides those from earlier today in the mall. I promise you.”

She is clearly still unsettled by the idea, but she reaches her hand out towards Connor, her skin peeling away to reveal her chassis. Connor nods in thanks and reaches out to meet her, his own skin melting away. Hank leans forward, watching curiously as he clasps Kara’s hand and initiates the interface.

It’s strange, Connor realises, that this is the first consensual interface that he’s ever made with another deviant. It’s nothing like when he forced the interface on the worker android at the radio station, or when he was trying to find the Traci, Kelly, at the Eden Club – this is calm and welcoming and warm, even with Kara’s hesitance thrumming across the connection. It’s an even giving and taking of information. Under Kara’s worry for her daughter, Connor can feel the depth of emotion that she feels for both the child and another android, much larger than her but with kind eyes and a gentle smile.

He doesn’t want to pry too far, so he locates the memory files from earlier in the day, starting from when Kara and Alice left their home and took the bus to Twelve Oaks. Alice switches frequently between looking out the window and smiling up at Kara excitedly. Connor can feel how soft Alice’s hair is when Kara runs her hand through it affectionately.

He watches through the footage at triple speed, pausing and analysing when he thinks he sees something suspect but it has yet to result in anything useful. Kara is a recognisable household model, and there weren’t many child models created so they draw a lot of attention from the humans around them. Connor notices sidelong looks and the occasional sneer, but nothing to suggest that they had something to do with Alice’s disappearance.

He keeps watching everything, making notes of all the potential suspects no matter how unlikely they may be. He can feel Kara’s presence in the background, just observing him and his actions.

 _You’re reaching the moment that she went missing,_ Kara tells him. Connor lets the footage play at normal speed and takes in everything. He sees Alice at the focus of Kara’s vision, but someone jostles her shoulder and she looks around to the person who bumped in to her. The footage glitches, and the human woman mumbles a sincere apology and then when Kara looks back, Alice is gone and nowhere to be found.

Connor notes the timestamp between the last recorded image of Alice, and the moment the glitch happened.

They’re 42.437 seconds apart.

 _How could I not have noticed that?_ Kara says, distressed.

_You were upset. Checking the time would have been the last thing on your mind._

Connor goes back to the glitch and makes a copy of the code, transferring it to his own hard drive for investigation. He ends the interface and Kara leans back, stunned. They sit in silence for a few seconds until Hank speaks up.

“What it is? What did you find?”

“I believe someone inserted a virus in to Kara’s programming to freeze her processor and allow them the opportunity to take Alice. We should consider that the kidnapper used the same virus on Alice, so that they could move her without a commotion.” Connor taps his fingers on the table. “The virus seemed to self-destruct when Kara’s body was disturbed, but I have made a copy of the code that caused the glitch and will analyse it now. Stand by.”

Hank is suddenly gripping his wrist. “Whoa! Hold on there, Connor – is that safe?” Connor blinks at him, so Hank elaborates: “What if that code does something to you, too? You literally just said that it was a virus!”

Connor appreciates the concern, and he smiles kindly at his partner. “My antivirus software is the most advanced that CyberLife has made – the virus will be immediately neutralized, and allow me to study the coding behind it. I’ll be fine, Lieutenant.”

Hank holds his gaze a few seconds longer before reluctantly letting go of Connor’s wrist. Connor gives him a reassuring nod and loads the virus on to his HUD. “Analysing now,” he says.

He sees the code running past his HUD, and then he promptly blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this huge story line planned out for a D:BH fic - it has about 40k words written for it and it seems like an absolute waste to completely abandoned it at this stage but I also struggle to go back and complete it, especially when I'm trying to finish the Firewatch AU that I have planned out. So to make up for it I'm taking out parts of the plot-line, regurgitating them and making a little spin-off story here. It will span out about 3 or 4 parts and I'm trying not to make it too similar to the original version but it may wind up accidentally being the main focus in Sunshine, Lollipops and my little series of (already pretty connected) one-shots will turn in to the mammoth fic that I originally had planned anyway. So ... watch this space, I guess? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Author's Note:**

> FOWLER: hank why was your partner missing all day  
> HANK: he was training new members of the team  
> FOWLER: ... we don't have any new members of the team  
> HANK: *looking back at the small herd of dogs in the bullpen* yeah, about that...
> 
> I'll come back to this every now and then and add a new chapter when I can. Hit that subscribe button up top if you want to get any updates as soon as I do.
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated!


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